#because the comet's engine is in the rear

[driftstep]

my Comet S2 so dummy thicc she turns a corner and her ass swings round so hard she loses traction and spins out

[merlincmgirl]

Outdoors - Wolffe x FReader - NSFW

Summary: Wolffe just wants 5 minutes alone with you, is that too much to ask? Well according to his brothers it is. So after all the interruptions, he drags you through the forest on the planet you were stationed on to finally have your undivided attention. He's going to make sure his brothers know exactly who you belong to.

Characters: Wolffe, Sinker, Comet, Boost

Pairing: Wolffe x F!Reader

Word Count: 7,690

Warnings: PinV sex, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, marking, possessive, biting (it is Wolffe), outdoor sex

Authour's Note: Wolffe is just... is just... he has a hold over me and filth just pours out. My brain melts with him!

shebs - backside, rear, buttocks

mir'shebs - smartasses

Wolffe was annoyed. No, not just annoyed, he was furious. For the past half a rotation, he just wanted 5 minutes alone with you, was that too much to ask? Well according to his brothers it was. Every time he thinks he has you alone, one of his brother interrupts.

First it was Sinker, who found you speaking quietly to him in the Command Centre after you had given him your initial report on the state of the transporters. The Centre wasn’t empty, but it was quiet, allowing a brief conversation before you would both have to return to your duties. His Sergeant had sighed in relief at seeing you, asking if you could help look over some of the communication towers that were broken during landing. His cyare had sighed and flashed him a soft smile before leaving to do her duty.

The second time it happened was in the mess hall. The pair of you had finally sat down to eat, hopeful that you would get something down you before work started up again. It was one of the only occasions that your paths may cross during the day without the expectation of reports and military protocols weighing you both down. So both you and Wolffe enjoyed these quiet moments, where you could share a meal together and talk quietly.

Comet had been the one to barge in on the moment, sitting down beside you and sparing Wolffe an apologetic glance before requesting your help. He seemed hesitant to tell you the reason, glancing over at the Commander before his desperate eyes flashed back to yours. Well that was going to be a headache for him later, Wolffe was sure. Laughing, you had assured Comet that you’d help deal with whatever was going on and wished Wolffe an affectionate goodbye before following after his younger brother.

The next time, it was Boost who interrupted, as he finally got you alone behind one of the supply tents that had been set up. He had just been about to wrap you up in his arms when Boost came round the corner, lighting up at seeing both his brother and his favourite Chief Engineering Officer. There was annoyance in your eyes but you greeted Boost with all the kindness that you possessed, as he asked if you would like to go see the shinies finally have the courage to talk to General Buir. Without waiting for a reply, he had led you away, shooting Wolffe a smirk and a wink over his shoulder as he dragged you away by your hand.

That was when Wolffe realised that something was going on. He wouldn’t put it past his brothers if it was Boost’s idea to annoy the Commander by dragging his cyare away during the few times they were alone. When you were both on duty, he rarely got any time with you. Mainly seeing you only in meetings or when you gave him your reports. So what little time he got when the 104th were on a mission, he would pull you somewhere quiet and finally spend time with you.

But his vod’ika’s little prank wouldn’t be happening for much longer. Because Wolffe has a plan, a plan to finally get you alone and away from annoying di’kut brothers.

So after all the interruptions, he drags you through the forest on the planet you were stationed on to finally have your undivided attention. He's going to make sure his brothers know exactly who you belong to.

You grunted, loosening the top button of your officer’s uniform as you trudged away through the forest, following Wolffe’s broad back. His grey and white armour was a delight to look at and it highlighted the curve of his ass perfectly. At least this way you got a nice view on your hiking trip with the Commander.

“Wolffe, for kriff’s sake, where are we going? We’re going to be out of sight of the men soon!” you grumbled, following after the Commander in front of you. A native fly buzzed at you and you angrily swatted it away. It was too hot for this, you could already feel your temples begin to dampen.

This planet was covered in a humid forest that went on for miles and miles. Perfect place to hide an entire army of clones – or droids. So the protocol was to not wonder off and make sure there was at least a group of you in case you found trouble. And you were walking further and further away from base.

“Good, they’ll be fine. Now quit complaining” Wolffe grunted, stepping over a small ditch and turning to offer you a helping hand. His strong grasp almost lifted you over the gap and safely next to him. He squeezed your hand once before letting go and continuing your walk.

You had been following him for a bit, the conversation pretty much one sided. Wolffe looked around stopping only for a moment before carrying on, a path known only to him. You were starting to suspect though he had less of a destination in mind and more and more that he was getting lost and wondering around. Sighing heavily at the heat that was beginning to cling to your skin, you bumped your shoulder against his arm. “We’re lost, aren’t we?” you questioned.

Wolffe turned to raise an unimpressed eyebrow at you, his cybernetic eye glinting in what light that made it’s way through the tree tops. “Of course we’re not lost. The men are 2 klicks West” he huffed, pointing back in the direction you came.

“Alright then, I’ll believe you” you grinned, slipping your hand into his and giving it a squeeze. Wolffe looked down at your enclasped hands and he smiled slightly, returning your squeeze. “Lead the way, Commander” you instructed, letting him tug you forwards.

“You know, I don’t know if it’s this heat or what, but your brothers have been very demanding today. I don’t think I got a moment’s peace with them” you frowned, wondering back to the Wolfpack's behaviour.

“Hmm, or what” Wolffe grumbled, moving a branch out the way for you so it didn’t get tangled in your hair or whip into your face. “It was Boost’s idea, I’m sure of it” he told you, leading you further into the forest.

“What’s he done now?” you sighed, dreading the headache that Boost would no doubt cause. If he was keeping you distracted, then that meant that something was going on that you weren’t meant to know about. You just hoped that whatever it was wouldn’t require you to clean up a big mess or lie to the General, you hated to see his disappointed face.

“Those little mir’shebs are keeping us apart for some reason, probably to piss me off” Wolffe explained and you had to hide your laughter behind a well timed cough.

“Really?” you asked, voice a little too high judging by Wolffe’s scowl, “why would they want to do that?”

Wolffe hummed, rolling his eyes at your amusement. “You’ve met my vode, cyare” he reminded, shaking his head.

This time you really did laugh, because if there was one thing the Wolfpack liked to do, was play pranks on each other. Normally Wolffe was kept out of most pranks due to his Commander position, but he was still on the receiving end of a few of the milder ones. “True! But it seems as if they’ve failed because I’m here with you” you grinned, wrapping your arm around the one holding your hand and pressing into him.

Wolffe pressed a brief kiss to your head before he straightened up and tugged you forward. “We’re here!” he announced happily, finally pleased to have reached the spot that his patrol squad had informed him about.

Pulling away from him, you couldn’t help but gasp. In front of you was a small clearing, with beautiful bioluminescent flowers surrounded by huge trees with thick, ageing trunks that reached high into the sky. Blinking in wonderment you stepped forward, careful to not disturb the flowers too much. “Wow!” you breathed, taking it all in.

A hand laid on the small of your back, and you turned to face Wolffe with a wide beam on your face. “How did you find this place?” you wondered, leaning into the warm weight of his hand.

“Patrol found it and told me about it. Thought it might be a nice little place to get away from everyone” Wolffe shrugged, pulling you into his arms. As you wiggled your way into his hold, back pressed against his chest, he couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection in his chest at the small movement. It showed him just how comfortable and safe you felt in his arms, and he couldn’t help but agree. It was like second nature to hold you so close, to have his head hook on your shoulder and feel your fingers run through his curls.

“It’s beautiful Wolffe, almost as beautiful as you” you smiled, holding onto the vambraces he wore on his wrists.

His chest rumbled with a chuckle and he squeezed you tighter against him. “Very cheesy, mesh’la” he murmured, pressing his nose into your hair and letting in a deep breathe of your scent. It helped him feel relaxed, more like Wolffe, rather than Commander of the 104th Attack Battalion.

You spun in his arms, throwing yours around his neck and pulling him down to you. “But you love me for it” you shrugged, enjoying the way Wolffe’s eyes squinted with happiness as he looked at you.

“Do I now?” he teased, leaning closer to hover his lips over yours, feeling the way your breath caught in your throat.

“Yeah” you breathed, focus zooming in on those perfect lips of his that was curling up into a smirk.

“Yeah I do” he confirmed, pressing his lips against yours. His hand came to cup your cheek, tilting your head up so he could kiss you how he wanted. Nipping at your lower lip, you gasped, and he took that as the invitation he needed to sweep his tongue into your mouth, seeking out your own.

You groaned, chest arching against his cuirass as you tugged him down into you. His tongue worked against your own, teasing you even further and you couldn’t help but feel heat flush through you.

Wolffe kissed just like he did everything else. With passion and strategy. He flicked his tongue against the tip of your own. It was almost like he wanted to consume you and overwhelm you, delighting in your little moans and groans against his lips.

Eventually you both pulled away, the urge to breath getting in your way. Resting your head in his neck, you panted, trying to stop your head from swimming at his kiss. A hand travelled to the nape of your neck, guiding you up to face him and you couldn’t avoid the smug look on Wolffe’s face at how breathless you were.

“You’re panting like me” you reminded, tapping his cuirass and shaking your head at him.

“Oh, but not as much as you, mesh’la” he chuckled lowly, the sound sending tingles down to your core.

Grumbling, you began to relieve him of his upper body armour, determined to feel the strong, warm planes of his body rather than the cool, hard ridges of his armour. The heat of the planet and forest was getting to you, and you guided Wolffe’s hands to the hem of your shirt so he could help you out of it.

As soon as that was on the floor, Wolffe groaned as he took you in. The way your skin glistened slightly with the humidity of the planet, how your curves were highlighted with every breath you took. The regulating temperature control of his body suit was a comfort, and he dreaded having to take it off but he had to if he wanted to feel your soft, delicate skin against his own. And he really, really wanted to do that.

“So beautiful” he murmured, trailing his gloved hands down the slope of your neck and resting just below your collarbone.

Starting at the belt around his waist, you glided your fingers over his tense abdominals, up over his chest, making sure to circle his nipples lightly before going upwards, until you could feel the small button that kept the top of his blacks closed around his neck.

Wolffe groaned, hands bracketing your neck before bringing you in for another kiss.

As you lost yourself to the kiss, Wolffe worked on undoing the bottoms of your own uniform, hooking his thumbs into the waistline and sliding them down your legs, breaking the kiss. He tugged off your boots, helping to keep you steady before pulling off your trousers.

You were left nearly bare in front of him, only your chest band and pants covering you from his heavy gaze. Shivering slightly, but not from the temperature, you reached out for his own belt, unclipping it and letting it drop to the floor. His helmet, that was clipped onto the belt, rolled amongst the flowers, but neither of you cared.

“Go on, keep going mesh’la” he growled, eyes never leaving yours.

Breath hitching in your throat, you lowered yourself onto your knees in front of him, the soft grass and flowers providing a comfort to your knees. Carefully, you unlatched his cuisses and placed them beside you in the grass. Next came his knee plates, and you added them to the growing pile around you. Pressing a kiss to his covered thigh, you hooked your fingers under his greaves and pulled them off as well, looking up into his dark eye and glowing white cybernetic one. There was only his boots and codpiece left. Wanting to tease him a little, you pulled off each boot, throwing them behind you somewhere.

“Keep going” he ordered, eyes never leaving yours, as his voice dropped another octave.

You felt slick leak out of you at that, no doubt forming a wet patch in your pants. But you trailed your fingers up his broad, strong and powerful thighs and worked your fingers under the catch. You could hear Wolffe’s breath catch in his throat as you slowly pulled away his codpiece. When you put it down beside the other pieces of armour, you turned back around to him, looking up at him past the bulge in his blacks.

“Good girl” he murmured, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. It caught on your lip and he pulled it down slightly before he lowered himself down in front of you. “Can I take this off, mesh’la?” he asked, hands stopping at the back of your chest band.

“Of course” you consented, feeling relief as the monstrous contraption was taken off you.

Large, warm, calloused hands cupped your breasts, massaging the ache away before you met his eyes once more. He had been watching you, taking in how you relaxed into him and the relief you got from him doing that. He ran a thumb over your nipples briefly, before laying a hand on your chest and pushing until you lay back in the flowers and grass.

It was like a floral mattress, the ground soft and it smelled so beautiful that you couldn’t help but sigh, looking up at Wolffe as he was illuminated by the brightest blues and reds and greens and pinks. He looked like a God from this angle.

Wolffe thought the same, staring down at you from where he was hovering over you. You looked so damn beautiful it almost hurt to look at you. But what made it all the more perfect was the look on your face as you gazed up at him. It was full of love, desire and affection. Nobody had looked at him like that before. He felt special, important, like out of all his brothers he was the one you would pick every time.

Wolffe let out a little growl before falling forward, landing on his hands on either side of your head. He pressed a passionate kiss to you, losing himself in the feel of you against him, in the way that your legs spread naturally to welcome him into the v of your legs. He grunted as you cupped his face, keeping him pressed against you.

When you pulled away, you let your fingers trace gently over his scar, knowing how much he still hated it. “You know, Commander, you’re wearing too many clothes” you grinned, playfully tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“Oh really, mesh’la? I was going to say the same about you” he chuckled warmly, before sitting up properly and throwing his blacks behind him. When he returned, he skimmed a hot, calloused hand down your side and stopped at your hip, before trailing his fingers from right to left along your waist in a teasing pattern.

You bucked your hips under his hands, hoping he’d take the hint and pull off your pants. But you knew Wolffe, he loved to tease you, so you waited for him to make the next move. When he still hadn’t done anything, just idly tracing patterns along the hemline of your pants, you couldn’t help but let out noises of dissatisfaction.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” he teased, letting the fingertips of one hand slowly slip between the material just enough to get your breath to hitch before he was pulling away.

“Wolffe, you haven’t even touched me yet! Come on” you hissed, reaching to thread your fingers through his hair.

He chuckled, rising up your body and presses soft kisses along the way until he was hovering over your panting chest. Wolffe cupped one in his hand, delighting at the weight before latching onto your other breast, sucking dark marks around the curve before taking your nipple into his mouth. He worked it into a stiff peak, gently rolling the bud in his mouth.

His other hand continued to work your other breast, squeezing and massaging it, grazing his nail lightly over the stiff peak. He loved hearing you moan and the way your hips bucked up into his stomach, searching for a friction that he wasn’t ready to give to you yet.

“Wolffe!” you gasped, tugging sharply at his dark curls as he ran his teeth over the sensitive nipple. His hand pinched the other one, making you cry out and arch into his touch.

Giving a hum of acknowledgement that sent tingles down your spine, you directed his mouth to the other breast, eager to feel his mouth on that side. He moaned around his new task, flicking and pinching your already slicked up nipple just to get you to moan loudly.

“Kriff Wolffe, you’re… everyone will know… what we’re doing” you panted, eyes sliding closed as you lost yourself in the sensation of his mouth and lips pulling at your buds, stiffened and shiny with his saliva.

“I’m counting on it, mesh’la” he assured, pressing a kiss to the valley of your breasts before kissing up your throat, feeling the thrumming of your pulse against his lips. He loved just how affected you got from his kisses and touches. He ran a hand over your chest and around your throat, not squeezing but keeping it there for a moment.

You shivered at the way he felt around you, encompassing every one of your senses as you ran your hands along his broad shoulders. Feeling the slightly slicked skin, you tugged him down to you, wanting to feel more of him. Throwing your head back, you couldn’t hold in your delighted nose as you felt his talented tongue and lips on your sensitive neck.

It felt so right to have him press himself against you and suck bruises and marks all along your neck. Everyone who would look at you would know you were taken. Would put two and two together and get the right answer. You didn’t have these hickies when you went into the forest with Wolffe, but you sure as hell had them when you came out of it later.

“Wolffe” you breathed, trying to get his attention on your face rather than sucking purpling marks along your neck. With a sharp pull at his hair, his head popped up and he found himself staring into your beautiful, flushed face. “Please mark me, I want everyone to know who I belong to” you begged, tilting your head to the side so he could have more room to work with.

“Oh, you’re perfect, mesh’la. Everyone will know just exactly who you belong to after this. Know just who it is that can make you feel so good, isn’t that right, mesh’la?” he purred, smiling lips pressed against you.

You hummed in reply, letting out a sigh at the feel of him against the ticklish spot under your ear. Pressing your hips against his, you could feel his hardened length through his blacks grind back down into you.

He worked his way down your body, kissing and grazing his teeth along the way, he seemed determined to make sure that anyone who looked at you would know that you were his, and he was yours. As well as the added bonus of keeping his annoying brothers away from you, was also a positive for him, you were sure.

Letting out a curse as his lips brushed against a ticklish spot, you couldn’t help but giggle and flinch away from him. He chuckled against you, running his hands up and down your sides before laying a wet, smacking kiss to the spot.

“Get off!” you grinned, shoving his head further down your body.

“Oh I’ll get you off, mesh’la” he smirked, looking up to see the playful roll of your eyes.

“All bark but no bite from what I can tell” you teased back, knowing it would work him up.

He huffed, mismatched eyes glinting at you before he returned to his journey down the length of your body. “Kriff, I can’t wait to put bruises all over your pretty skin” he cursed, nipping roughly at your side before running his tongue over the mark soothingly.

You hissed, body shuddering at his rough touch but relaxing back as you felt the warm glide of his tongue against the mark. That one would be staying on you for a while, that’s for sure.

Feeling him reach the edge of your underwear, he took in a deep breath and sighed, the warmth of his breath washing over your sensitive core. Goosebumps erupted over your skin, and Wolffe was quick to soothe them away with his hands. Sitting up on your elbows, you watched as he latched his teeth into the waistline of your underwear and then released them, the sharp sting of the hemline sending fire coursing through you.

“Ready mesh’la?” he asked, stopping what he was doing and looking up at you. He always asked for your consent, even when he was lost in his own passion. He refused to move until you had given your verbal consent. On some nights, it was a wonderful way to tease you both, but you didn’t want to wait now, you wanted to feel his mouth against you.

“Yes! Come on Wolffe” you breathed, trying to writhe your hips underneath him. But he pinned the hips down and gave you a warning look.

“Keep still, you know I enjoy unwrapping you” he ordered, peeling your underwear off you and pulling them down slowly. He groaned at the sight of your slicked entrance and your glistening folds were revealed, the material clinging onto you slightly before he tugged them off you.

Heat rushed to your face, blushing at the look of hunger that was on Wolffe’s own as he stared at your entrance. Your thighs tried to move, to close together to get away from the embarrassment at seeing just how much you affected him. However his hands quickly came up to hold you open for his gaze, hands strong and caring as he bit his lip.

“Mesh’la,” he breathed, staring at your core, “you’re so wet for me, sweetheart.”

Before you could say anything, he got down closer to your entrance, supporting himself on his elbows as he pressed a soft kiss to your thigh. One hand brushed soothing circles on your thigh, the other came to run explorative fingers through your slicked folds.

You sighed at the touch, knowing it was only the start. Wolffe couldn’t get enough of you, and he ate pussy like a man possessed. He always made you see stars with just his mouth and fingers, and you knew this time would not be an exception.

Leaning forward, you felt his warm breath caress your wet entrance, making you shiver at the conflicting sensations. Deciding that his hungry observation was through, Wolffe hooked his two thumbs on your lips and spread you open for him.

“Kriff!” you hissed, reaching down to clutch at him.

“My thoughts exactly, sweetheart” he growled, seeing your puffy folds and dripping entrance on full display for him. He didn’t waste any more time and ducked his head to take your clit into his mouth, giving it a hard suck that had you cursing him at how he went from 1 to 100 on your exposed cunt.

He flicked his tongue against the your button once more before making his way down to your entrance where your juices were pooling. Moaning, he collected them all on his tongue, savouring the taste before he was pushing his tongue inside of you.

All thoughts fled your head as he used his nose to nudge your clit while he drank your arousal straight from the source, seemingly not being able to get enough as he tried to push deeper inside of you.

“Fuck! Kriff! Wolffe, right there, oh!” you cried, tugging on his hair to direct him to a spot that was just aching for his touch. When you felt his tongue massage you there you couldn’t help but arch into him, moans and whines falling from your lips as Wolffe feasted on you.

Wolffe grunted at a particularly hard squeeze of his hair and pulled your legs over his shoulders, getting closer towards the nectar that was dripping from you and spreading all over his jaw. When all that did was have you buck more into his mouth and pull sharply at his curls, Wolffe growled lowly, vibrations shooting straight through your cunt to the heat that was coiling in your stomach.

Withdrawing from your delicious cunt, he grabbed both of your hands and secured them on your stomach, one large hands encompassing both your wrists and pinning them down.

“Wolffe! Please!” you whined, pouting at not being able to touch him for the moment.

“Stay there, or do I have to bring my cuffs out?” he threatened, nipping at your inner thigh in addition.

Kriff, you wouldn’t mind if he got his cuffs out to keep you still, but that would mean he would have to move away from you to get them from his belt. And you really didn’t want him to leave you, even for a moment. Shaking your head, you relaxed back into the grass beneath you.

“Now be a good girl, and let me work” he smirked, eyes all dark and promising.

He went back to eating your cunt, the way he approached it just like he did everything else, with passion, determination and giving it his all. Sucking on your clit, he pressed two fingers inside of your soaking entrance, stretching them out a little as he felt the way you clung onto them.

Moaning at the feeling of him filling you, even if it was just with his fingers, you tried to spread yourself even more for him, desperate to feel him deeper inside of you.

Wolffe groaned, grazing his teeth over your sensitive nub and delighting in the loud cry you let out. He curled his fingers just slightly before pushing them inside of you at a fast pace, opening you up for him even when you were clutching around him, desperate to suck his fingers inside of you.

“Kriff, you’re holding my fingers so tight, it’s like you never want them to leave” he murmured, watching at the way your entrance stretched around his fingers.

“Wolffe!” you panted, flushing heavily at his words as you felt your pleasure reaching it’s peak. “More!” you demanded, hips rising up against the strong hold he had of you.

Wolffe smirked wickedly, glancing up at you to see you looking down with pleasure-hazed eyes, desperate for more to push you over the edge. “Yeah, I’ll give you more sweetheart, but you have to take it like a good girl” he nodded, kissing just above your clit and making you let out a loud curse in frustration.

Chuckling, he entered a third finger inside of you, enjoying the squelching noises as he stretched you further on his fingers.

“FUCK!” you cried, hands tightening into fists as he pinned you down even further.

White-hot pleasure zapped through you as his mouth returned to your clit, growls and moans vibrating against your bundle of nerves. You sobbed our a breath as you felt your core tighten around his fingers, your release building and building until it was all you could do to hold on.

But Wolffe didn’t want that, he wanted you cumming around his fingers, wanted to taste your release on his tongue, hear the beautiful sounds you made as he made you cum. So he crooked his fingers, pounding into your cunt with his fingers at a devastating pace. Keeping his mouth to your clit, he hummed around it, burying his face into your cunt.

The coil inside of you snapped, and wave after wave of pleasure washed over you as you reached your peak. Wolffe helped you through it, drinking down your juices as he licked around his slowing fingers. He pulled them out, licking up your release gently and cleaning you up.

When it got too much, you pushed his head away, panting at how overstimulated you felt. Resting back, you looked up at the darkening canopy, taking in the clouds as they passed by until your breathing got back under control.

Looking down, you could see that Wolffe was resting his head on your thigh, drawing patterns on your hip as he watched you with all the softness and love that Wolffe possessed but couldn’t show anyone else.

“You okay?” he checked in, squeezing your hip in concern.

“Better than okay” you assured, running your fingers through his hairline before coming to trail down the scar that ran over his eye and down his cheek. He closed his eyes and hummed at your soft touch.

“Want to continue?” he asked, keeping his voice level so as to never influence your decision. He would respect whatever it is you wanted to do.

“I would really, really love that” you smiled, pulling him up to meet you in a teasing kiss.

Wolffe grunted, lips pressed hard to yours for a moment before pulling back. “Here” he huffed, reaching behind him for something. “Put this on” he grunted, handing you your officer’s jacket.

“What? Why?” you frowned, slipping your arms into the material and pulling it around you. You left the front open though, not willing to fasten it until Wolffe told you what he was planning.

“Because I’m going to fuck you against that tree” he growled, pressing nibbling kisses along your jaw.

Oh! Well okay then, you’d happily do whatever he wanted if he was going to fuck you within an inch of your life against the tree. Grinning at him, you turned your head to connect your lips together, swallowing his groan as you licked into his mouth. His hands squeezed your hips as your tongue flicked against his, tasting yourself on him.

He pulled away, before helping you both to your feet, where he wrapped an arm around you to pull you close. “You’re so beautiful, I’m so fucking lucky to have you” he murmured, cupping your chin and tilting your head up to him.

“We’re both lucky” you reminded him, wiping away a bead of sweat that was pooling on his temple. The pair of you had a light sheen of sweat covering you but you didn’t care, just as long as you could feel Wolffe’s body pressed against your own.

Wolffe nodded in agreement before backing you up against one of the large trees. Even if you wrapped both arms around it’s trunk you wouldn’t be able to connect your hands together. It was massive, and it was perfect for you and Wolffe.

Looking back at him with a playful grin, you leant back against the trunk, making sure to expose your neck to him so he could see all the lovely marks he had decorated you with. “Well, Commander, now that we’re not going to be interrupted, I thought you promised you’d fuck me” you teased him, running a hand between your breasts.

Letting out a low growl, he stalked towards you, pressing you back against the tree as he attacked your lips, hands running down your sides roughly before flicking your stiffened peaks with his thumbs, pinching your nipple afterwards.

It had you gasping, eyes squeezed shut at the burst of pleasure-pain that shot through you. He took advantage of that, slipping his tongue inside of your mouth and devouring you. As he continued to kiss you, his hands slid to your waist and gripped them tightly.

“Jump!” he ordered, and you could do nothing but obey as you leapt up and wrapped your legs around his waist as he caught you.

You slid your arms around the back of his neck, holding on tightly to him as he nuzzled your noses together. Being this pressed against him, you could feel his hardened length slide through your drenched folds, the tip of his member tapping against your clit.

“Kriffing hells Wolffe!” you gritted out, tightening your hold around his waist.

“I know, mesh’la, can’t wait to be inside of you” he groaned, resting his forehead against yours for a moment before he gritted his teeth. “Guide me in sweetheart” he instructed, as he kept you up.

Biting your lip, you reached down between you and wrapped your hand around his velvety, throbbing length. He was so hard, he must be desperate to feel you around him. Giving him a few teasing pumps that had him cursing up a storm, you notched the head of his cock at your entrance.

“Such a tease, mesh’la. Won’t be laughing when I’m through with you” he warned, pushing further into you. It felt like he was spearing you open, carving room for himself inside of you so that you had no other choice but to let him in. He sighed when he was fully in you, groaning at the feel of you fluttering around him as you got used to his size.

It really did feel like he was claiming you, making sure every inch of you was touching him. The top of his cock brushed against that special spot and you couldn’t wait for him to actually move, to feel the force of his thrusts as he took you against the tree.

Wolffe grunted, sliding his arms under your knees and lifting them up from his waist. You gasped, clutching onto his neck tighter as you was suspended in the air, the only thing holding you up was the tree and Wolffe’s strong arms. It left you completely exposed to him and you dropped down lower on his cock. Your eyes rolled back as you felt him deeper than you’d ever felt him before.

“Oh! Wolffe! Feel you in the back of my throat” you cried out, squeezing the back of his neck and trying to take deep breaths into your lungs, but it didn’t seem to be working. Wolffe was making you breathless. Every twitch of movement, every warm breath that fanned across yours as he panted out. It was making it harder and harder to think, to say anything but his name.

“This what you needed mesh’la? Someone to ruin you and put you back together again” he groaned out, pulling his hips away before thrusting back into you.

You hissed, clenching around his cock at both his words and the feel of him inside of you.

“Oh!” Wolffe groaned, jaw tightening at the way you tightened around him even more. “I can feel how much you like that, sweetheart. Can feel how tight you got around me” Wolffe growled, withdrawing from you slowly, hissing out a breath at the way you seemed to clutch onto him, not wanting him to leave your warm, slick hole.

“Please…. Please Wolffe” you begged, nails digging little crescent marks into his bronzed shoulders.

“Alright then, mesh’la, if that’s what you want” he smirked, thrusting back into you roughly.

You screamed, eyes rolling back at the way he pistoned his hips in and out of you, not giving you a moment to recover before he was thrusting in again. With every thrust, it felt like he was hitting your cervix, as deep as he had ever got and you could do nothing more than take it as he held you up.

The sharp bark was muted as you bounced up and down, and you took a second to appreciate Wolffe’s concerns for you and the way he wanted to protect you even when he was fucking you halfway across the galaxy. You whimpered, hand coming to weave it’s way into his curls and pull sharply on them.

Wolffe let out a growl, and your eyes shot open to meet his warm brown orb and his cold, white cybernetic eye. “That’s it, look at me! Look who’s doing this to you” he ordered, sweat beading down his chest now at how hard he was fucking into you.

“KRIFF! There! Don’t… don’t stop!” you shouted, not caring if anyone heard you. Wolffe felt too good inside of you, the way the tip of his cock rubbed against the spot on your clenching walls and was shoving you closer and closer to your next release.

Wolffe grunted animalistically, lips coming to press against yours. It wasn’t the most graceful of kisses, but it was enough, and you whined as his teeth sunk into your lip. “Never stopping… won’t ever” he gasped out, resting his head on your shoulder to look down at where you were both joined. He could hear the slick squelches as he pushed in, could see the way your arousal was bubbling around the base of his cock. He moaned loudly, bringing his gaze back up to you as he felt his balls tighten and pull up.

“Touch yourself, want you to touch your pretty. Little. Clit” he demanded, each word punctuated by a sharp thrust inside.

You couldn’t do anything but nod, thoughts flying out of you as you slipped a hand between you and felt your swollen bundle of nerves. Another moan escaped Wolffe as you travelled further down, brushing against his cock as he slammed into you.

“Kriff! Sweetheart! I said touch yourself” he snapped, as he felt his own release get closer and closer.

Huffing out a laugh at his reaction, you brushed your fingertips against your clit, rubbing them in tight circles, just the way you liked.

“Wolffe!” you cried out, feeling the coil inside of you begging to snap.

“That’s it, fuck. Keep going, want to feel you cum on my cock” he cursed, pounding into you now and squeezing bruises onto your legs from where he was holding you up.

The increase in pace was just what you needed and you couldn’t help but stiffen in his arms, arching against him as much as possible as your release washed over you in crashing waves. You heard yourself scream out Wolffe’s name but it was distant to the ringing in your ears as you clenched around him.

Wolffe groaned, the fluttering of your muscles around him enough to tip him over. You let out a cry as Wolffe clamped down on your shoulder, teeth digging into your flesh as his hips stuttered against yours, hot cum shooting into your clenching channel, milking him for every drop.

Slowly, he lowered you both to the forest floor so that you could both catch your breaths. Wolffe pulled you into his lap, his cock softening inside of you and buried his face into your neck. Sighing, you collapsed further into him, letting yourself relax as he traced patterns up and down your spine. It was enough to send you into a light sleep, all the energy zapped out of you because of Wolffe’s little rendezvous in the forest.

“You okay?” he rumbled, you felt the question more so than heard it.

“You might have to carry me back, my legs aren’t working” you mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

He chuckled, reaching over for his belt and pulling it over to you. Cracking open an eye but refusing to budge from his spot against you for the moment, Wolffe pulled out a water canteen and a ration bar.

Grumbling at having to move away from his furnace like body, you took the ration bar from him and broke it in two. However, instead of accepting his half off you, he pushed the canteen into your hand.

“Drink first” he instructed, lips tugging upwards as you sighed heavily and did what you were told.

As soon as the water touched your lips, you gulped it down greedily, quite worn out after the thorough fucking in this god-awful heat.

“Next time, we fuck in the snow, or the ice. I don’t care as long as I never have to feel this hot again” you complained, passing the canteen back to him. You began to nibble on your ration bar when Wolffe shot a pointed look at it.

He laughed at your words, something deep and low but affectionate nonetheless. “You won’t be saying that when your shebs start to freeze” he reminded, pinching at your ass. He grinned as you flinched away from him, flicking his chest and pouting at him.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll just have to take me back to your tent and keep them warm, won’t you Commander?” you rolled your eyes, watching him gulp down his ration bar in a couple of bites. You don’t know how he did it. They were god awful, the taste both bland and the foulest that you’d ever experienced. But Wolffe seemed immune as he finished his own.

“Come on, mesh’la, as much as I want to keep you here, we’d best be getting back to base before they start looking for us” he sighed, lifting you up off his cock.

You grimaced at the feeling of your combined releases dripping down your thigh. “Ugh, I’m jumping in the refresher as soon as we get back” you grumbled, shaking your head as you located your clothes. You swiftly pulled them on, even if they did feel like they were sticking to you now that they had chance to soak up the moisture in the air.

“In the common refreshers?” Wolffe raised an eye, tugging on his armour quick and efficiently.

“Yeah, you’re making sure that no one else comes in” you told him, watching as his cheeks seemed to flush. As if the thought of his brothers seeing you naked and covered in all of his marks was more embarrassing as to not 10 minutes ago when he was fucking you through the tree.

“Yes ma’am” he leered, pinching your ass as you walked past him back to camp.

Rolling your eyes and rubbing your backside you realised something very quickly. “Er, Wolffe, you do know the way back, right?” you wondered, as the sky began to darken and you weren’t too sure where to go.

“Come on sweetheart, I’ll get us back” he assured, placing his helmet over his head. He came over to take your hand in his own once more, his warm, calloused palm against yours as he led you back the way you had came, no doubt following the path his HUD had set for him.

When you got back to camp, you found Boost, Comet and Sinker around a campfire, chuckling amongst themselves as they cleaned their blasters. They took one look at you both before bursting into laughter, Comet staring open mouthed at the sight before him.

Frowning, you looked down, wondering why they looked like they were busting a gut at the sight of you. However, as you did, you noticed the bioluminescent pollen covering all over you. There was some over all your clothes and attached to Wolffe’s grey and white armour, lighting it up in an array of different colours. It must have transferred over to them when your clothes had been thrown off and you were making love in the flowerbed.

“Damn Commander, Lieutenant, looks like you’ve been rolling around in the stuff” Sinker smirked, holding back his continuous chuckles as he took you in.

“What was you doing to get it all over you like that?” Boost added, winking at you both and snorting as you flushed a bright red. It matched the streak of red pollen across your chest, some of it shaped like a hand.

Wolffe stiffened beside you and you knew that he had had enough of his brothers’ teasing. They seemed to notice as well because Sinker and Boost instantly stopped, and Comet didn’t know whether he should try and melt into the background or put some distance between him and his brothers. Luckily for him, Comet was Wolffe’s favourite and normally got out of any punishment – the same couldn’t be said for the other members of the Wolffe pack.

“That’s it. Latrine duty for the both of you!” Wolffe snapped, glaring at his younger brothers as they spluttered out protests and apologies.

[townofcrosshollow]

My Official Worst Plane List

The only good thing about being a born again plane autistic is that I am now able to gossip about which planes suck the most.

The Comet 1

My least-least favourite of the worst, the de Havilland Comet 1, the first ever jet airliner, first flown all the way back in 1949. Say goodbye to noisy, jerky, uncomfortable piston propellor planes and say hello to falling out of the fucking sky because the Comet was involved in 3 fatal crashes within its first year of operation.

Two of those three crashes were attributed to breakup due to structural failure- see, jets are more efficient at higher altitudes and thus need pressurized fuselages to keep you from suffocating. But it puts a big load on the aircraft's skin to pressurize and then unpressurize it, and it turns out that the engineers at de Havilland just straight up didn't make the plane strong enough. Whoops.

The Concorde

I know this is gonna be controversial in the Plane Fandom but fuck Concorde. Awful plane. It was the first ever, and notably only ever, supersonic passenger plane, introduced in 1969. It was loud, could barely fly any routes due to noise pollution, and its economics were terrible- because it guzzled fuel so badly, tickets were unhinged levels of expensive. And it broke down so frequently that operators had to have a second Concorde on standby in case the first one broke.

The beginning of the end for Concorde came during a takeoff from Charles de Gaulle in 2000, when a piece of debris pierced the tire of a Concorde and led to a fuel tank rupture, massive fire, loss of control, and crash into a hotel. The planes were briefly grounded, and within only a few years, retired. Good riddance. I don't wanna see that thing's stupid nose ever again.

The DC-10

Not as ugly (or groundbreaking) as the previous two, my least favourite plane comes from one of the worst aircraft manufacturers of all time, McDonnel Douglas (who, coincidentally, merged with Boeing. Shocker!). The DC-10 is honestly pretty cool looking and had a long and successful run, but its legacy is tarnished by the series of accidents caused by a poorly designed rear cargo door.

When this door wasn't properly closed, it could fly open during flight, and insufficient ventilation between the cargo compartment and cabin meant that the floor would collapse. Both McDonnell Douglas and the FAA were made aware of this fact, but in order to stop a costly grounding, they agreed not to issue any airworthiness directives that would mandate immediate changes to the whole fleet worldwide. They basically stuck a bandaid on an open cargo door.

As a result of this lack of action, and MD's aggressive marketing of the DC-10 to Turkish Airlines before revoking all maintenance help and leaving the inexperienced airline struggling, a Turkish DC-10 crashed and 346 people died. It was the second-worst single airplane accident in history, only after Japan Airlines 123, which literally lost the entire tail in flight.

But on a more positive note, some DC-10s have been converted to air tankers and put out forest fires, which looks sick as fuck:

[rhythm-catsandwine]

Chap 5 Birthday

It's been a while since I've updated 'Life Finds a Way" on here.

Master List and Life

Some NSFW

They got up early to eat a breakfast of fresh eggs, bacon, sausage and toast. The fresh food was a treat before flying out to find a job.

“So what's the birthday want for breakfast lunch and dinner?” Maynard looked over at their youngest.

“Duno”

“Well, we all know what he's getting for dessert.” Adam playfully shoved him towards Danny. 

“Con"t wait.” He grinned.

Danny grabbed hold of him and started licking his face. “Why wait?” giant paws roamed freely against his body.

Justin squirmed and tried to break free.

“Down boy.” Adam pulled Justin close again. Danny barked like a dog.

“Not at the dinner table,” Maynard complained. He pointed at their captain. “Don't encourage the children.”

“You mean child and his golden retriever.” 

“Why do people call you an octopus or a goat?” Justin asked Danny.

“Played drums in school. It kinda stuck, because of how I played.”

They walked back to their beloved ship after breakfast and packing up.

Justin almost forgot how beautiful their ship was. Her cool gray metal, thrusters to either side. The rear end made her look like an actual Firefly or lightning bug from afar. The thing that set her apart was her name hand-painted by Adam.  Blues surround her name in comet white. 

She smelt like home. All the little details scattered across her. From the little red, gold, purple, and yellow (Danny's favorite sports teams) alternating hearts in the engine room. To the little Strawberries, blueberries, and other fruit in the kitchen. Adam was slowly making it their own. He would likely keep going until there wasn't any room untouched. There was always a balance of space and shapes. 

Adam felt something at the back of his mind. It was like some energy shot down from the back of his neck to the base of his spine.  He glanced up to see another Firefly. But a 3, not a 6. There was some familiar energy coming from it. The feeling was like when someone else like him was near. His grip tightened on Justin’s hand.

“Wot?”

“That's a model 3” He pointed to the boat above them. 

The inspector who checked them in handed the paperwork over. Justin took it as Adam was phased out a bit. “I don't see how those old Models keep going.”

Danny nudged the captain bringing him back to reality. “All the Fireflies 3 and 6 keep going.  As long as you take care of them they take care of you” The 6 was bigger than the 3. But not like the 4 which required more crew.”  “Shadow” had a smoother ride, a fuel-efficient engine, and a longer range.

Once they broke atmo they were all on the bridge. They needed a job. Maynard leaned against the airlock leading down the stairs from the bridge. “What if we picked up the stash of meds from that moon? The atmo stuff will expire soon. And a few moons will be overdue for a delivery. Sell the stuff or trade as usual? Plus I'd like to stoke up on the other stuff we have there. “

“I'm in,” Danny said.

“Wot stash?”

“There’s this moon that the main thing they do is making clay. We hid a huge stack of stolen meds there. Has the meds that keep people on a moon or rock with fucked up atmo from dying.”

“The people are a little strange.  Sing about some guy called Jane.” Maynard folded his arms.

“They wot?”

“You'll hear. Once we're there.” Danny answered. “Some people warship weird things.”

Adam pulled up the maps and charts they needed to get there on the computer in the control panel, in front of Justin. “Some people juggle geese.”

“That's quite odd.” Justin followed Adam's finger gliding across the map of the stars, showing the route to take.

“Weirder than the occult or the fact the government cuts into people's brains to make them physic?”

“Guss not?” “Wait, they?”

“Don't think too hard. Over-analyzing separates the body from the mind” Maynard messed up Justin's hair. “Take about three days to get there curly q”

“Stop calling me that and messing with my hair!” Justin untagged his curls and got them out of his face. 

That night their captain was restless, tossing and turning between the sheets. Justin was tired from flying in empty space toward their next job. Leaving the busy moon and seeing stars he had never seen before, made it even worse. Then he worked out with Danny, with the weight equipment they kept under the stairs to the catwalk. After that Danny fucked him against the wall of the cargo bay, until Maynard needed Danny’s help with something in the greenhouse, that was next to the infirmary. He tried to distract himself with the image of the mechanic. Covered in sweat, clothes clinging to his body, showing everything. The man was big all over. 

“Adam. I can’t sleep with you moving about.” He wined. 

“Sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Wanna talk bout it?”

Adam still had his back to the other. “You’d never leave us, right? Leave me?”

“No. Corse not.” He pulled the other close, pressing their bodies together. 

“It’s just that people usually leave me at some point. Even my parents. Maynard, Dan, and James are the only people who haven’t. Sometimes I think you’ll wake up one day and decide you’ve had enough. Or that I’m too much to handle. I mean Paul just left us.” He sounded fragile like he’d break if pushed even a hair further. “He left us. Fucking just left us.”

Justin propped himself up on his arm and rolled his partner over to face him. “That’s not what I’m going to do.”

“You’re the best thing that happened to me. I don't think I could handle you leaving.”

“ I promise I will never leave you. I love you.”  

“I love you too.”

“Is there anything else you want to talk bout? “ Justin had a feeling, that something was left unsaid. 

“There are things I’ve never told Maynard or Dan. I was dragged through hell. James was the only thing that got me through. Or we got each other through it. But I don’t want to talk about that tonight.“

“Is that why you get more nightmares when we’re landside?” 

Adam was afraid Justin could see right through him. “Yeah.” He let himself be held by the other. “Wait how do you know it gets worse landside?”

“I keep track.”

“You what?”

“Let’s go to sleep.”

“Hey! Tomorrow’s your birthday.”

“Mhmm” Justin pulled the other against his chest.

“Want the day off?”

“Why?”

“I know how to fly her. You deserve it.”

“Bot didn’t we already have a few days off?”

“That don’t count. Do you want off or not? Maynard and Dan do the same.”

“yes.”

Justin awoke to Adam kissing him softly all over, no inch of his skin would be left untouched. From his jaw to his neck and down towards his hips. “What do you want?” He asked between kisses.

Justin flipped them over and straddled the other.

“Hey! You’ll be doing all the work.”

“You asked me what I wanted.” He moved pulling a wine from the one beneath him. “But tonight. I want you to have yer way with me.”

“I know you like it rough. But like?” Adam felt Justin lower himself on his cock. “Fuck.”

“Like you always fuck me.” He hummed as Adam bucked his hips against the other. “I've grown to like it. Jus depends on my mood. Which I want.” 

“As you wish.”

“Cinnamon roll for the cinnamon roll?” Maynard placed a sweet treat, bigger than his face in front of him. It drowned in sweet icing. This was all real. Not protein. Real bread, sugar, and cinnamon. “And something to wash it down with.” A mug of real hot chocolate was placed carefully in his hands. “It’s salted dark chocolate with two shots of bourbon.” That’s how Maynard showed love, through food mostly but he wasn’t pushy about it. The other side was when he fussed over someone when they were sick of injured. 

“You want to get me drunk at 9 in the morning?” 

“You want to be?”

“No, I want to remember this day.”

“Happy 22 earth years curly-q”

It wasn’t long before Justin found himself pinned against the wall right next to the engine. He was getting railed by Danny. This time the door to the room that contained the heart of the ship was closed.  “Faster. Harder. “ He said between breaths. “Please.” He begged. “Dan” it was all over too soon, like with Adam just a few hours earlier. His legs felt like jello as soon as his feet hit the floor. “Bloody-” he fell into the blond's huge arms. 

“You had that coming curly q “ Danny messed his curls up even more. “God it's been? What? Like two weeks?” He was grinning like sunshine on a warm summer day.

“Duno.”

“Probably I'll stay like this until you two get out of your puppy dog honeymoon stage. “

“Nardo says we ain' going to”” Justin let the larger man hold him tight. 

Danny laughed.” It's weird when you mix accents” 

At lunch, he had his favorite soup, of meat and vegetables, and birthday cake. As soon as he was done eating the others put gifts in front of him. He opened the one from Danny first. It was a new black waistcoat with spirals in the same blue as his eyes. Maynard just gave him a blank menu for the week. Usually whoever had a birthday got to plan the meals for that week. Last he opened the one from Adam. “Lord of the Rings,” He read the name on the set of four small leather bond books. “The Hobbit.”

“I know how much you like literature and reading.” Adam pointed to the white journal with random doodles drawn on them. “And I know you’ve been wanting a new one.” 

“You didn’t have tu do this.” He blushed when he saw the little blue heart with “JC + AJ” in the middle, drawn on the first page of his new journal. 

Justin watched the others, talking and wondered why the other couple never got married. Dan wanted to but Maynard didn’t.  They would still have an open relationship. But Maynard called marriage a fancy piece of paper. Dan disagreed. He watched Adam laugh at something Maynard said. Adam was pretty. Maybe they would get married eventually. But how would they show that? Some wore necklaces some bracelets, tattoos, and others rings. Would one of them take the other's name? Or keep them the same?

Later Justin sat with Adam on the bridge, it almost felt weird sitting in the captain's chair, but they weren’t a normal crew either. Most captains would never let that happen. Adam was still flying “Shadow” with a few expert instructions from her actual pilot on how to fly smoother and more accurately. 

“Which do I read first?”

““The Hobbit”. If you want, Or you can read “The Fellowship” first like most. It don't make much of a difference.”

“In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit….”  He read out loud until he came to the first song. He sang, trying his best to imagine how it was supposed to be sung. 

“I didnt know you could sing.” Adam stared at him in amazement. 

“I guess I can.”

“Don’t tell Maynard.”

“Why?”

“He’ll bring music night back and make you sing with him. Although I think you would sound great together.”

The last word resonated in his mind. He kept thinking of what the captain would do to him at the end of the day. “Adam.” He got up, placing his gifts carefully in the seat. “Would you want to go to our bunk early?” 

“You okay?”

“I jus keep thinking of what you're going to do to me.” He hugged the other from behind and giggled.”I’m already hard jus thinking about it.” 

“Or we could stay right here.”

Justin reached over to plug in the codes for autopilot.” No” He shook his head. “Our bunk.”

[soclonely]

The Clones as Women’s Contributions To Science

Because I am feeling empowered today Rex-Mary Anning: Before they were even teenagers, Anning and her younger brother discovered the first complete ichthyosaur skeleton in their local cliffs in Lyme Regis, Dorset, in 1811. She went on to discover the first complete plesiosaur and a pterosaur. Anning was tapped by scientists for her palaeontological discoveries and expertise, but was barred from official scientific circles. Echo-Grace Murray Hopper: mathematician, computer scientist and rear admiral in the U.S. Navy, Hopper led the Eckert-Mauchly Corporation team in the 1950s that created the first computer language compiler Fives- Vera Cooper Rubin: established evidence for the existence of “dark matter” and its gravitational pull,transformed the field of cosmology. Jesse-Williamina Fleming: a maid who became a Harvard astronomer, developed a classification scheme and cataloged 10,000 stars in nine years Kix-Mae Jemison: became the first African American woman astronaut, holding the title of science mission specialist. Tup-Hertha Sponer: Her work targeted the application of quantum mechanics to atomic and molecular physics. Dogma-Helen Taussig: best known for discovering the cause of “blue baby syndrome,” a birth defect of the heart that had a very high mortality rate. After Taussig developed the concept for a repair procedure, she worked with two of her colleagues at the Johns Hopkins Hospital to design a technique which has saved the lives of thousands of babies Hardcase-Chien-Shiung Wu: was recruited to the Manhattan Project, where she worked on uranium enrichment. Her work on the law of parity  in physics helped earn two male colleagues the 1957 Nobel Prize in Physics, but she did not share in the award. Coric-Barbara McClintock was the first woman to receive an unshared Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine. Her research demonstrated the existence of “mobile genetic elements,” also known as genetic transposition, the capacity of genes to change position on a chromosome. Bly- Shirley Jackson:  first African American woman to graduate with a Ph.D. from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) in any field and also just the second African American woman to earn a doctorate in physics in U.S. history. She currently serves as the president of Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, also making her the first African American woman to lead a top-ranked research university. 99-Klara Dan von Neumann: self-taught mathematician was a primary developer of coding for the 1940s ENIAC computer.She is not listed as an author on the paper Cody- Mary G. Ross: the first Native American  female engineer who helped propel the world into an era of space travel  Waxer and Boil-Frances Oldham Kelsey: pharmacologist and physician at the FDA, she came under pressure in the 1960s to approve thalidomide for morning sickness. Insisting that safety tests were inadequate, she refused, preventing countless birth deformities caused by the drug Wolffe- Maria Merian: Studied and recorded the life cycle of the butterfly, before that people believed they were born from the mud. Sinker and Boost-Jocelyn Bell Burnell: denied a 1974 Nobel as co-discoverer of pulsars Hunter- Maria Mitchell: during observations of the sky one night in 1847, the astronomer discovered a comet, popularly known as  “Miss Mitchell’s Comet,” Wrecker-Marie Maynard Daly: became the first African-American woman in the United States awarded a PhD in chemistry. investigated the links between cholesterol and heart disease and the effects of cigarette smoking on the lungs. Tech-Elizabeth Blackburn: won the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine in 2009 for discovering telomeres, DNA segments at the ends of chromosomes. Crosshair- Jewel Plummer Cobb: cell biologist and cancer researcher, she studied melanoma and made early advances in tissue culture as well as translational medicine

[vixlenxe]

Valstrax | バルファルク | (Barufaruku) Super Sonic Jet Dragon | 超音速ジェット

Valstrax is a slender Elder Dragon covered in gleaming silver scales. Its most notable feature is its wings, which have fused into a trident-like structure, each segment ending in an opening designed to expel dragon energy. Its back is lined with fin-like projections. Its head has a small crest & its eyes are blue. Its chest has three horizontal gaps that are used to take in and pressurize air like a jet engine.

Valstrax is a myth to the Hunter Guild, in all but name. Reports & sightings of Valstrax are very few & far in between, most of which are from extremely far distances, with the creature in question being being very high up into the sky, this is due to Valstrax being able to live & fly are at incredibly high altitudes far from human habitation. At these highs, Valstrax is typically only seen as a red ball with a long streaking tail left behind it, much like a meteor; thus giving rise to it’s nickname as ‘The Red Comet’. Because of this, where the Elder Dragon’s den is, is currently unknown, but it has been seen to be able to cross into multiple different types of environments when looking for food, suggesting it’s den might not have a natural source of food available.

Valstrax flies at high speed by discharging Dragon Element energy from its wings. It can manipulate the alignment & shape of its wings to vary the attacks it uses. When its wings are in its usual backwards-facing position, Valstrax will commonly lunge forward & swipe at hunters with its front claws or try to take a bite at them. If the hunter is a fair distance away, however, it will rear back one of its wings before connecting it into a jagged spear-like formation & thrusting it at the hunter. It can add two more moves to this attack. It can also jam the trident tipped appendages into the ground & rip up some dirt along with the hunter. Valstrax is also able to maneuver its wings into a spear position & fire pure balls of dragon energy at the hunter. Lastly, it is able to ready its wings after a very short charge time & rocket towards the hunter, usually ending in a deadly spin upon landing again.

There is also believed to be a variant of Valstrax referred to as ‘Crimson Glow Valstrax’ | 奇しき赫耀のバルファルク | (Kushiki Kakuyou no Barufaruku). This variant is when the dragon element within Valstrax runs rampant & the Elder Dragon is unable to control it’s unstable energy levels. Due to the rampant dragon energy, Crimson Glow Valstrax has permanent glowing red marks connecting from the chest to the wings, showing up on the sides & wing-arms. The wings have a different design than a normal Valstrax's wings, looking more like exhaust vents, & are covered in glowing red color similar to a normal enraged Valstrax. When inhaling air, the wings will glow a bright red & start spewing out dragon energy. When angered significantly, the energy starts to burst out in the form of large energy spikes on its head, & the whole torso glows red in color, with large amounts of dragon flame coming out of the chest & sides.

It is far more aggressive than its normal variant & is known to attack anything in sight. This is due to the fact that its dragon energy has gone rampant, altering its behavior in response to the constant pain caused by the energy. This causes the Crimson Glow Valstrax to become more active & less reclusive compared to its normal counterpart. It also has a tendency to ambush Hunters & monsters alike during hunts without warning, akin to the various invader monsters like Deviljho or Bazelgeuse, it will ambush others without any warning; so be on your toes.

[cutegirlmayra]

Amy Rose Prompt: Strong

It’s a birthday week! I just thought of this one while watching some inspiring and emotional scenes from all different types of animation. I guess my birthday wish is for characters that I’ve longed to see have a ‘strong impacting moment’ have them again sometime in the future that pumps us all up to cheer for them!

Commissions and prompts are open, but if you’ve submitted 3 ideas already, please hold off and let others have a try! :Db Thank you!

Prompt:

“Metal Sonic!!!” Amy spread her legs into a balanced stance. Her scuffed up boot dug deeper into the ground to give her a firm footing. The wind howled like a forlorn cry as she brought her hammer up, beginning to twirl it around herself as she did when she miraculously deflected Eggman’s canon-fire.

Metal Sonic was already going after his first priority: Sonic.

However, this little pink hedgehog was proving to be quite the nuisance.

He stopped in his departure and turned to see her still rearing to fight, but his scanners only saw her as an annoyance, not a threat.

The image of Rosy the Rascal was engraved in his memory, Amy Rose could not change his view of her. Pathetic.

“I won’t let you run!” she cried out, feeling the ache in her back and to alleviate some of it’s pressure, she hunched forward just slightly. “You will never be like Sonic The Hedgehog!”

It’s head turned with a creek of its steel, and its eyes blazed red in a heated acknowledgement of her words.

She found a moment to take a step forward, pushing herself to make him see her, to defeat the doubts that told her she could be destroyed trying to take him on.

“I’ve decided something, Metal... I’ve decided... I’m not going to try and redeem you.” she squinted her eyes, feeling her heart grow heavy as she admitted that.

He continued to stare at her, now fully turning his body towards her.

“Instead, I’m going to defeat you!” She took her existing hammer and swung it out, making it grow even larger than when Eggman had tried to trap her in that cavern.

“I could only make that decision because I knew two things, Metal Sonic! One, that you will never measure up to Sonic!”

Metal Sonic’s body hunched over, twitching in his rage.

“And secondly... Not just that... but that you don’t have a heart to redeem.” She turned to a moment of tenderness, as though still wishing that weren’t the case. “You’re true to following your programming, and being what you are... a villain. No, worse than that, a villain’s puppet... bent on being nothing more than a nuisance in this world!” She stepped forward again, “So no matter what I say to you, no matter how hard I try and teach you about friendship and the beauty found in this intangible world... you will only hate. Comparing yourself to Sonic, you are nothing like him! He taught Tails how to fly a plane!” she sped herself back into a ready stance as he charged her. It was like he was teleporting, how fast he moved.

He sent a slashing hand through to her center but she reflexed to holding her hammer like a sword engaging against a metallic shredder.

“Grr...Urk... HARRRAH!!!” she threw him off, and he flew back a moment.

“He brought Knuckles out of his isolation!” She swung her hammer to deflect his version of a homing-attack.

All the while, he was moving her back down the mountain, as though proving a point... she could never face him head-on...

As though mocking her for trying, he kept his next consecutive attacks with full force but slower, allowing her to block and continue to be pushed back by his power.

“Urk, gah... ha!” she blocked again and again, trying to swipe at him but he expertly would dodge her.

Zooming in to grab her hammer, he decided now would be a good time to boost his thrusters and send her farther back down the rocky cliff.

“AHHH!!!” he shoved her down and the hardness of the rock scraped against her bareback side.

He tried to pull the hammer out of her grasp, but she held on, making him pull her up as she took a foot and jammed it above his rotating center core, burning with fuel to allow him to operate.

She kicked off and he willingly let go... to him, this was mere child’s play. Just a way to shake her off his tail while he continued to hunt down Sonic.

She landed well but felt herself start to strain. ‘Not now...’ she got herself back up, ‘Not yet.’ she took her hammer in both hands, moving it clumsily over her shoulder.

“Y-you forget... or you don’t know-!” she bent herself, getting ready for the biggest home-run of her life. “Who taught me to fight..!” she charged forward, and underestimating her momentary rest, Metal Sonic leisurely lifted a hand to stop her but was slammed down by the unforeseen force that came with her hit.

He was knocked to the side, his eye-lights shaking due to his mental computer unable to compute what had just happened.

“He helped me to never give up!” she swung again, forcing him back to his feet and then slammed him down once more, “He taught me that you make your own destiny!!! The way you envision it! The way you want it to be!”

She kept hammering into him, and soon, as he began to step back... unable to brace himself from her impacts, he was losing pieces of his metal hide one after the other.

He stumbled, tripped, and fell over himself with each massive hit she threw at him... now he was the one getting pushed back up the mountain’s side...

“You will never be like him... because you don’t know what’s it like! You’ll never understand what Sonic has learned from us! What we’ve gained from him!” she continued to wham him with sensational fury and continual endurance, a steady show of power that only ever increased with each new powerful hit of her Piko Piko Hammer.

Amy’s swings became more and more rapid, but still carried so much weight in every blow.

Metal Sonic’s systems began to glitch out on his eye-lights, unable to process the progression of how far the battle had turned.

“Maybe it’s all Eggman’s fault... or maybe you truly just want to watch the whole world burn... but either way... There can only be one Sonic that lasts in my heart!” She brought the hammer over her head, and a crack of thunder burst from behind her, traveling like a spiderweb through the dark sky.

But it was that moment that Amy hesitated, breathing hard as her compassionate heart got the better of her.

Her eyes loosened from their fierce anger and narrowed bridge, realizing how awful she must appear.

She saw Metal Sonic struggling to get up, one of his eyes dented by her strikes and the other glaring up at her.

“...I’m no monster...” She stepped away, breathing out as the mental image of herself appeared in her mind. “I’m no villain... I’m just a hedgehog... who can’t stand to see people suffer around her...”

Within Metal Sonic’s programming, the image of Rosy the Rascal was being infiltrated, as Metal Sonic began to override his own logic and erase her image from his memory core... replacing it with that terrifyingly powerful stance Amy held before... and blurred out the threat level... having it massively bolded and blaring red: MAJOR THREAT.

“I’m not you.” she hissed out, seeing him shoot himself into the air, and charge his stomach-engine with a growing energy ball...

She remembered... pleading to the Chaos Emeralds to let her go super, and having her wished denied.

Even though she remembered... she held out her hand... “Chaos...”

Metal Sonic threw his arms back, bringing the the charge to the height of its power!

“...Please...” she squinted her eyes in the brightness of his blast that she knew she wouldn’t be able to escape or dodge from.

The Master Emerald flared to life, spiraling out from around it one of the Chaos Emeralds, a orange light spinning with it as it trailed a beautiful glow of chaos energy.

Tikal’s ghostly image appeared behind the flying emerald, moving like a comet towards her open hand to the side. “Amy..!” her voice cried out to her.

As the beam of Metal Sonic’s energy cascaded down like a vigorous wall of molten heat... The Chaos Emerald zipped to Amy’s side, and she caught it.

“CONTROL!!!!” Amy held up the emerald as time itself broke the fabric of space and reality and pushed her through its limits to appear twisting behind Metal Sonic.

He tried to turn around to her, but it was too late.

With one arm, her quills lingering up in the intensity of the moment, Amy crashed her hammer into his back, crunching the circuitry and snapping the tense wires out of place. Electricity burst from his being as he came smacking down into the earth below... Into the very crater of a grave he created for himself...

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” Amy gave her everything to that attack, the Chaos Emerald’s glow ceased and she began to fall through the air.

“Ha...ha... oh no!” She looked around her, realizing taking out Metal Sonic was now the least of her worries. She had been transported thousands of feet into the air, and now... she was plummeting down at accelerated speeds.

“Sonic...” her eyes watered, before she clutched the Chaos Emerald again, “Chaos control!” her trembling hands from the wind pressure exposed its gloss form only to reveal it was still dull of any influence from her voice command... Her eyes widened, “This can’t be...” she squinted her eyes against the wind force again, “CHAAOOSSS!!! Control!” she tried again, turning it up towards the sky but nothing...

“S...S...Soooniiiccc!!!” she released the emerald from her hand, bundling her fists up to her chest and crying out her hero’s name...

In her most dire moment... a shimmer sparked like a star igniting far from her soul... but a sonic boom pulsed through the air as a figure--launched like a missile--swooped in an arch to grab her before she met her end.

She felt the lapping wind as the figure began to come to a screeching halt, trying to slow its momentum down before she felt herself blackout a moment.

When her limp body came too, she blinked to see a glowing figure above her. “-y...Amy..! Amy!”

Her eyes adjusted... and the bright being before her... was her Sonic.

“Amy, are you alright?” He was leaning over her, his two hands holding him up above her resting body, laying her down by the side of the cold mountain...

“Where’s Metal Sonic..?” He seemed concerned, and a gentle smile lifted to her face as her eyes glistened from his warm light.

“Sonic... I... I did it.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it was soft and gentle, something he wasn’t used to.

To show this, he leaned back a moment, his eyes widening in surprise by her sudden expression.

She was so full of gratitude, so content in helping her friends from the threat of Metal Sonic...

His smoking head rest deactivated, after having his form split apart and tumble loose down the rocky cliffs of the mountain’s proud face.

She was proud... but would he be?

“I beat him...” she gave a more fuller grin to her already exhausted and drained complexion. “Now... you’re the only Sonic...”

The only one that mattered.

Sonic’s image was blurring again.

“W-wait...” she wanted it to stay... but in that blurr, it focused only briefly to a proud smile on Sonic’s face, a happy expression.

“Thank you...” He began, as she blinked her eyes softly again, the world darkening once more. “Amy...”

[duallygirl178]

Dearest O'Malley Chapter 11

Chapter 11

I was soon starting to feel under the weather myself after Joe passed away. I felt weak from being under nitrus for 3 months, just like Jim; Nathan's instructor said. I began to get sick too just like that. Nathan tried to get me running again and grew frustrated. I felt my timing points were off just a little bit and I had to sit for almost 2 months that summer and I dreaded feeling sick for a while. All I could do was rest and as I was napping that afternoon, I had a dream about my father. In my dream, I was a young boy and playing a prank on him. I had sneaked quietly into my father's room and tip-toed to the bed where my dad was sleeping. Then, I tipped the mattress fell on top of him while he was in it. My dad was yelling and swearing in fury, but in the background, I could hear my mother laughing herself silly. My father squirmed effortlessly to get up as he fought through the covers. Once he was out of the cover twists and turns, he pops up trying to breathe and then that's when his face turned angry. He was just as angry as a yellow jacket wasp. He hollered out "Who flipped over my mattress? Whoever did this, better know that I'm out for you, I'm coming! Ya hear! you broke my chassis and my rear view mirror done broke!" I was laughing as my mother came up behind me chuckling as if no one cared. Dad yelled and yelled at my mother that she was in trouble. He yelled as us kids and mother didn't let him get away with it. She yelled at him with the most uncomfortable and longest sentence of swearing I've ever heard. All of us except for me, would start copying mom on her swearing in the background.

I suddenly woke up with a jerk and started to think to myself; 'Did that really happen?'. I remembered my dad was always fussing that he broke something  when it wasn't fatal or when it was minor. If he bumped something on an object, he'd make a big scene out of it all. It was embarrassing! I liked to compare my father's personality with the parent from the TV show, "Life of Louie". He was a difficult, caring, comical, and downright paranoid father. After 10 minutes, I already forgot about my dream. I checked the time. It was late in the evening around 6 o'clock and I was beginning to get sweaty from the heat.

That mid-July, Joe fell and hurt his head. He had to go to the hospital in Farmington New Mexico. Carol, his wife couldn't bare to live without him. She was in her chair when it happened because she could barely get around. Then the night Joe was in the hospital, she got depressed and started to be loopy. She was seeing things that weren't there and she called the police because she would imagine that children were trying to steal her medication. Carol; Nathan's grandmother, called the house phone at 1010 late and there was all this commotion that really wasn't necessary. Carol was paranoid the whole time Joe was in the hospital and when Joe was transported to the hospital that was located in Albuquerque that July, she was going downhill fast. Sadly, Joe passed away a few days later. Jan, Nathan, and Natalie all had to pitch in each of their time to help with Carol that included changing her diaper, feeding her, bathing her, and changing her gowns. The care went on for a few more months after she got out of the hospital from an infection. It took several weeks to get Carol out of there, but she was doing fine when she was transported to Good Sams in Aztec. Good Sams was a place where old folks could recover from the hospital, be socialized with others and live there. It was really nice. Carol was doing fine and couldn't wait to be home again. While Carol was at Good Sams, I got bored that day. I headed inside the empty house. It felt cold and drafty because no one was here except for me, Ol' Reliable, and the van. I went into the spare room to go sort out some VHS tapes. I looked under the twin bed and found the box of VHS tapes that was stuffed under there. I pulled them out, took them out to the living room, set the VHS player up to the TV, turned it on and watched. There. On the tape was me. I was a lot younger then...possibly about 13 years old. The camera focused in on my dad. He  was putting an old stack of newspapers in boxes ready to shred up in his electric shredder and was listening to a matching song too. He was listening to "Rip it up" in the Bill Haley & His Comets version. I turned the camera on a pipe hose connected to an exhaust pipe to a truck that lead to the window of a room. I was going to have a neighbor floor the gas pedal to release dirty diesel exhaust smoke and fumes through the pipes to smoke my dad out of the room he was in to shred the newspapers. I was fed up of him saying "I'm busy, son" and "Go play outside son." a lot to me. The camera focused on me after it showed footage of what I did and how I was explaining it. As it focused on me, I had this revengeful look in my eyes and said "I'm going to get you, dad" then I was laughing my deep hissing laugh that was weird. I focused my eyes on my neighbor and said "Okay Dan. Move em' out" Then, my neighbor revved up his engine and black smoke flowed through the hose and into the window that I lodged in. Quickly, the room flooded up with black smoke and out came my dad like a raging bull. I could hear him coughing his wheezy cough as smoke poured out like water from a faucet. My dad was covered in a black soot coat and had a death stare in his eyes. He was furious and said "When I breathe, I'mma kill you, boy" but I just laughed my stupid laugh. It was hilarious to watch my dad burst out of the house like if it was on fire and covered in soot.

I had forgotten how funny it was when I recorded my dad being angry with me because I pulled a prank on him and filmed it all on video cassette. My dad looked 50 years younger on this one and his owners had him 8 years with him still running. He was still an errand car till this day.

Next, I viewed another tape dated May 13, 1981 and I couldn't remember what was filmed on the tape. I ejected the tape out, placed it on the living room table and slid the second tape in. I watched and waited to see what came up. I could see it was something to do with my first dance at an Elk's Lodge and I was on a stage singing my first number. Then, it struck me. My father came to see me with my talent aboard to perform at the prom that I volunteered and signed up for at the high school.

I was singing a tune I had selected from my dad's records to show off. I looked dashing with new primer and cloud-white paint up on the stage. I was rocking it out to 'Jailhouse Rock' by Elvis Persley himself for a moment. And just when it was about to get boring, I performed "At the hop" by Danny and the Juniors and that's when everyone got crazy for rock n' roll. You could see square dancing and hooting from the crowd. Everyone was having fun and rocking it out. Then I remembered I was the Disk Jockey singer before people started to use re-mixer equipment and electric bits on their buttons. I remembered as I was viewing this tape I had sung a few more Elvis Persley songs such as "Don't be cruel" and "King of the whole wide world". I remember singing a few more songs by Little Richard too like "Tutti Frutti", "Rip it up", "Long Tall Sally" and "Jenny, Jenny".

Gonzo was even there too watching me with a random band that I had known for only a day that was playing the notes behind me. One of them was a Chevy Impala, two of them were Dodge Cornets, the other one was a GTX that was handling the music key grip. The tape was full of memories and outdid myself. In the tape: I was making my way off the stage when I was all done. The rules were; I had to pick and sing six songs. After my turn was over, they needed to let the next contestant have a turn. I enjoyed the rest of the night dancing with the crowd. I could see Impa and Gonzo in the back of the room. I had weaved through the crowd to come get them so we could party. Impa was in his best dressed and Gonzo was fixed up as if Elvis Persley dressed him up himself and said 'Okay, have a good time. don't get drunk on Greyhounds now' Greyhounds were a type of alcoholic drink that was from the 1960s. It was a tangy grapefruit like drink that wasn't made from any orange juice. We were giving Gonzo a little bit of guff about how he was all fixed up in his duds for a few minutes. Then we boogied until we turned purple to all the great songs and then some with the crowd. It was all fun until I accidentally bumped into a 1968 Plymouth Fury. Right away, I apologized and got her some first-aid care. She told me I was very generous and rare for a gentleman to say anything sorry to. Most men bump into her and not even say their sorry. I had responsibility unlike those jerks she was talking about that she may had encountered.

The tape ended and I ejected it out of the player after rewinding it. I looked at more titles that looked tempting to recall back upon.

I had a lot of fun watching all the VHS  tapes that my dad recorded on. Not many of them had Impa and Gonzo on them, but I sure missed him. I knew I got to remember all the things we three boys did together when he was still alive. It was good to see him on the tapes. As I viewed more of the tapes, I was even more taken back to see Gonzo, Impa and I singing at a stage that a bar had around. It was hazy and smoky from all the customers smoking pot and drunks that were bored out of their motors, twisting their beer bottles off the tables as they were getting high on hash. The smoke was making us three high, tired and sound like the California Raisins during our song we were performing. I remembered after that, we were so exposed that we were driving high. We didn't get caught by any police officers and we reached home alright.

[spudart]

1:72 SAAB OAS 41 'Víðarr'; aircraft "23 Grey" of Skaraborgs Flygflottilj F 7, Swedish Air Force; Satenäs AB, 2014 (Whif/kit conversion) by dizzyfugu https://flic.kr/p/pAFA59 +++ DISCLAIMER +++ Nothing you see here is real, even though the conversion or the presented background story might be based historical facts. BEWARE! Some background: The Víðarr (or Vidar, "Wide ruler", a Nordic god among the Æsir associated with vengeance) or officially SAAB OAS 41 is Sweden's first manned aircraft with stealth technology, and the first aircraft of its kind in Europe in operational service. "OAS" is an abbreviation of the aircraft's primary tactical roles: "Osynlig Attack Spaning", "Unseen attack and reconnaissance missions". Much of the OAS 41's technology and elements were developed and tested on unmanned vehicles, namely SAAB's SHARC and FILUR demonstrators. SHARC (Swedish Highly Advanced Research Configuration) was an experimental unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV) built by Saab AB. Since the late 90-ies SAAB had been carrying out preliminary studies about several Unmanned Aerial Vehicles (UAV) concepts but not taking them into flying demonstrators. In 2001 it was decided to start the SHARC Technology Demonstrator (SHARC TD) project. Because of a limited budget and good in-house experiences from flight tests of instrumented sub-scale aircraft, it was decided that the SHARC TD should be in 1:4 scale of the original SHARC design. One of the major goals of the project was to test the airworthiness process for a military UAV or aircraft of similar layout, and this could well be achieved even with sub scaled aircraft. Even the goal of testing a lean development process for demonstrators could be achieved in that way. The SHARC TD project was initiated in 2001 with first flight less than one year later, on February 11th 2002, with the basic version. The more advanced version made its maiden flight on April 9th 2003, less than two years after project start. In September 2003 the SHARC flew a number of missions out of visual range, ranging around 20 km from the control station location. In January 2004 the effort towards the development of the ATOL functionalities was initiated, and led to a successful flight test campaign in August 2004, during which fully autonomous mission were demonstrated, from standstill to standstill. The SHARC system was composed by two flying demonstrators (BS-001 and -002), a GCS and some GSE for engine start and cooling air supply on ground. The SHARC TD is a 60 kg jet-engine driven aircraft. The airframe was manufactured in light-weight composite materials; the airframe weighed only 8 kg (without landing gear). The payload consisted of a forward looking colour video camera. The avionic system (hardware and software) was designed and manufactured by SAAB and is based on Flight Test Instrumentation system COMET 15 used in the Gripen and Viggen fighter a/c. Before the decision to develop an in house avionic system, a market survey was conduced, but no existing system had been fulfilling specifications. Electro-optic fibres, or “fly-by-light”, were used to the actuators in order to minimize the risk for Electro Magnetic Interference. Saab and FMV’s technology demonstrator program FILUR made its first flight in 2006. FILUR’s main objective was to show the tactical importance of stealth technology applied on aerial vehicles, to gain experience and to set a foundation for stealth requirements for future aerial systems and air-surveillance systems. The focus with the FILUR program was on low signature, for both radar and IR-signature. “Static measurements of radar cross section (RCS) made late 2004 showed really good performance and corresponded with calculated data. In flight measurements of stealth performance will be done as a next step”, said Jan Boström FILUR Project Manager, Saab Aerosystems. The technology developed in FILUR would be used for future Saab systems, being UAVs or manned aircraft, which became the OAS 41 which had been under development since 2004. The SAAB OAS 41 made its maiden flight in 2012, and in early 2014 a pre-production batch of five aircraft has been assigned to Skaraborgs Flygflottilj ("Skaraborg Air Force Wing") F 7 in Satenäs, where the aircraft are operated alongside JAS 39 Gripen multi-purpose fighters for evaluation and integration. Conceptually the OAS 41 is very similar to the much earlier US-American F-117, dedicated to ground attacks with precision weapons, attacks against coastal/sea targets and reconnaissance missions. All ordnance or equipment is carried internally in a large bay which is covered by sliding doors. Typical weapons include up to three Rb 75 (AGM-65 Maverick) missiles, two GBU-12 laser-guided smart bombs or two AGM 119 "Penguin" anti-ship missiles. Iron or cluster bombs as well as pods with unguided missiles are also an option. Beyond that, the aircraft can also carry air-to-air missiles like the actice radar RB 99 (AIM-129 AMRAAM) or the IR-guided Rb 74 (AIM-9L Sidewinder), up to four of each. The OAS 41 does not feature an internal gun, even though up to two podded Mauser BK 27 cannons can be carried internally. Overall, its range of weapons is highly identical to what the JAS 39 Gripen can deploy. Alternatively to offensive loads, the OAS 41 can carry camera of sensor pallets in its belly, making it highly adaptable. It is uncertain how many aircraft wil actually be built, since the Swedish Air Force officially announced that the OAS 41 is not to replace its JAS 39 fleet, rather complement it or take over exclusive missions due to its stealth features. The type's limited performance will probably confine to a limited scope of missions, and with the running cost reductions it is not expected that more than 30 OAS 41's will ever leave the production line for the Swedish Air Force, unless it would be exported and follow in the Gripen's footsteps, but this remains doubtful. General characteristics: Crew: 1 Length: 6.70 m (21 ft 11 in) Wingspan: 18,29 m (59 ft 11 in) Height: 3,96 m (13 ft) Wing area: ~68 m² (729 ft²) Empty weight: 6.739 kg (14.844 lb) Internal fuel: 2.500 l Max. takeoff weight: 13.600 kg (29,760 lb) Powerplant: 2× Svenska Flygmotor RM13S turbofans (General Electric CF34-3S), with 4.150 each Performance: Maximum speed: 692 mph (1.115 km/h) at height Cruise speed: Mach 0.7 Landing speed: 210 km/h Range: 4.828 km (3.000 mi) with internal fuel Service ceiling: 13.381 m (43.830 ft) Rate of climb: 60 m/s (11.811 ft/min) Armament: Up to 3.000 kg of ordnance, all carried in a ventral bomb bay, including air-to-ground and air-to-air missile, smart and iron bombs, gun and rocket pods, ECM equipment and pallets with cameras and sensors for reconnaissance missions. The kit and its assembly: This stealth aircraft is basically a scale-o-rama project: it is a Dragon B-2 bomber in 1:200 scale turned into a 1:72 scale aircraft. What sounds easy is more complex than it appears: you need a cockpit with a proper canopy, the landing gear has to be adjusted and there are many small details that need attention. For the cockpit installation I decided to implant a complete X-32 section from a Revell kit, it replaces the complete B-2 spine. It appears a bit bulgy, but upon close inspection of the potential internal layout I found that you can either have a flush canopy OR a bomb bay. Since I wanted to keep the latter (and enlarged it), the cockpit went a bit higher. As a result, the original X-32 canopy looked much to bulbous, it was way too high. Searching through the spares pile I eventually turned up an old F-18B canopy, which, reversed and cut into shape, could be transplanted onto the X-32's cockpit frame, even tough some sculpting at the rear was necessary. Since the F-18 canopy had some glue stains I had to sand and polish it, and as a final coat I decided to apply some light brown translucent paint. Fit is not 100%, though, but it looks good now. The high cockpit necessitated some visual counter-balance at the rear. Originally I had hoped to keep the OAS 41 fin-free, but I eventually dug out a pair of F-117 fins that were cut down in length and glued to the airframe, slightly canted outwards. The landing gear is all new. The massive front strut comes from a F-117, the wheel from the X-32. The front well was enlarged, as good as possible, but it is still too short... don't lokk there closely. ;) The main landing gear struts were taken from the X-32, while the wheels come from the F-117. The wells were lengthened at the rear, so that the longer legs find enough space. The B-2's original bomb bay was cut out and replaced by a completely scratched interior that allows the carriage of a pair of laser-guided bombs, which come from the scrap box. The exhaust slits were modified, too. They were made wider, and inside a kind of ramps were added - the original 1:200 B-2 has nothing inside. For the same reason I also added light blocks, pieces of dark grey foamed plastic, inside of the air intakes and the exhausts. Finally, at the aircraft's front, some pitots were added, but that's all since the overall hull was to remain clean. Painting and markings: I originally had the plan to make this a Japanese aircraft, but then I decided to make it a (kind of) tribute to the innovative Swedish aircraft industry - the SAAB OAS was born, and it was to carry an appropriate, if not odd, paint scheme. Even though "Fields & Meadows", made popular by the Saab 37 Viggen, was an option, I did not want to copy that style. But an angular scheme appeared logical as to confuse the aircraft contours. The splinter paint scheme I eventually settled upon was vaguely inspired by Norwegian "Skjold" class coastal patrol ships, which have stealthy hulls and carry a three-colored spinter scheme in grey, sand and dark brown. Odd for a ship, one might say, but in front of the typical Norwegian rocky coastline, it is highly effective, and even on the open sea, viewed from above, it is not a bad scheme at all. The pattern was vaguely lent from the Skjold boats, and I used different tones which would IMHO be more versatile: a reddish brown (WWII French Earth Brown), Field Grey and Olive Drab, in a wraparound scheme. Together with the edgy shape of the aircraft this turned out to be pretty effective - a bit of a surprise! The rest was rather straightforward: white for the air intakes and the landing gear, the cockpit and the bomb bay were painted in Neutral Grey. The pair of internal GBU-12s was painted in light grey, a typical tone for such weapons in Swedish use witn the JAS 39 Gripen. The kit received a light black ink washing and some panel painting with lighter shades of the basic tone, just to amphasize contours and simulate some structure and acccess panels esp. in the engine area. After decal application (puzzled together, among others, from an Italeri JAS 39 Gripen) the kit was sealed with Revell's matt acrylic varnish. In the end, a rather simple whif - I am not a friend of stealth aircraft, since they are IMHO boring. The splinter scheme changes this a bit, and the high cockpit does not look that bad at all, even though the original X-32 canopy looked REALLY weird.

[mindfulwrath]

In The Red

I was listening to Sam Tinnesz’s “Play With Fire” on loop for a while and this is what came out.

Words: 2,187 Warnings: Car crash, dangerous driving, self-hatred, stalking, emotional abuse AO3

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | | Part VII | Part VII.5 (NSFW) | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X (Final)

Once you get out of Los Santos and onto the highway, it's pretty easy to go real goddamn fast.

Ryan teases the throttle, edging up to eighty, then eighty-five, then ninety. The glittering lights of the city shrink in the rear windows of the cars ahead of him. There's not much traffic, but there's enough. He weaves in and out, cutting it too close, never checking his mirrors or his blind spots. Horns doppler away behind him, momentary shrieks in the night. The Akuma growls, eating up the flat desert road.

Faster. Faster. Ninety-five, a hundred. The engine's running hot, deafening. Red and white lights blur in his vision. His breath fogs the visor of his helmet. He whips into the HOV lane and scrapes the knee of his jeans on the concrete divider. He can still taste Gavin in the back of his throat.

Faster. Faster.

He swerves around a minivan and takes the side mirror off a Prius. Sparks zip past and a sharp pain splinters through his elbow. There's a wide stretch of open road ahead. Ryan guns it.

The Akuma surges forward, bucking up so sharply it almost throws him off. His hands white-knuckle on the handlebars. He heaves his weight forward and the front tire slams back down. His teeth crack together and his stomach lurches. He never lets up on the throttle.

One-ten, one-thirteen, one-fifteen, topping out. The bike screams out into the wide open spaces of the Grand Senora, a comet, a meteor. Every twitch of Ryan's shaking hands threatens to reduce him to a greasy smear on the pavement. If that's how he goes, so be it.

Faster. Faster. Faster.

The Akuma has nothing left to give. The throttle's wide open, the engine a deafening roar. He flattens himself against the bike while the wind rips at his jacket. He can't fucking steer like this, the next patch of traffic is racing towards him, it's not enough, it's not enough, it's not enough. . . .

He whistles between a semi and a pickup and the vortices shove him hard. He loses control of the bike. The handlebars wrench in his hands. The whole bike fishtails. He fights it. He careens across four lanes and into the dirt. He comes off the bike.

The ground knocks his breath out. He tumbles so many times he forgets which way is up. The helmet cracks like a gunshot. He skids to a stop in a cloud of dust. The bike smashes into something with a tremendous crunch.

Son of a bitch.

Ryan lies there in the dirt for a long time, waiting to be able to feel his body again. All he's getting right now is pain and adrenaline, so much that he's just floating in a sea of them. The visor of his helmet is covered with a meteor-storm of scratches. His ragged breathing is loud inside it. Headlights rake past like the beams of a dozen lighthouses. If anybody saw him wreck, they don't care. He's a ways from the road, it's dark, he's wearing black. Unless the bike's on fire, nobody's going to notice him now.

As his mind settles back in, he takes a slow inventory. At least a couple of his ribs are broken. He doesn't think anything else is, but he hasn't tried moving yet. He doesn't think he's injured his spine, but it might be hard to tell. Breathing is still going well, and from the way his heart pounds in his ears, that's still working, too.

With one clumsy hand, he reaches up and flips up the visor of his helmet. Cool air rushes in over his eyes. Half the sky overhead is still greyed-out by the lights of Los Santos. He didn't manage to get that far, after all.

Typical.

Groaning, Ryan rolls onto his side and pulls the helmet off. His broken ribs shoot pain through his chest and he winces, but he's had worse. The helmet rattles on the desert pavement when he drops it. The back of it is split wide open. The night air combs cold fingers through his sweaty hair. He's shaking like crazy, floaty and weird from the adrenaline. His eyes won't focus. He wonders if he's concussed. He lifts his head and looks around for the Akuma.

It's about a hundred feet away, lying at the foot of a plume of dust, or maybe smoke. It doesn't look like it's on fire from here, but he fancies he can smell burning plastic. Ryan coughs, and gets another volley of protests from his broken ribs.

By the light of the passing cars, he heaves himself to his feet and staggers over to the bike.

Oh yeah. He's gonna be walking home. The white smoke of failure is dribbling out of the engine, and all the electronics are dead. The key's snapped off in the ignition. Both tires are shredded. That big crunch noise was apparently just the bike hitting the ground after going over a bump in the berm. The paint job's ruined.

"That'll buff out," he says weakly, and then coughs, because his lungs are full of dust and smoke.

Ryan stands there for a good minute and a half, just staring, out of things to do. He's bleeding in a couple places, road rash striped up one calf where his jeans got yanked up in the crash. Everything is sore, all his muscles wrenched up tight.

He tells himself he's lucky to be alive. He doesn't feel very lucky.

Slowly, he turns around and sits on the bike. He fishes in his pocket for his phone—which is fucking shattered too, of course. He sighs and drops it into the dust, resting his elbows on his knees. He lets his head hang heavy. His eyes drift closed.

He can still see the look on Jeremy's face as he died.

Lacing his fingers together, he squeezes his temples with his thumbs. There's a lump in his throat that he can't swallow down, a disgust he can't compartmentalize. He's still shaking from the crash. Every breath sends arrows of pain shooting through his chest. His head is muzzy, his eyes stinging.

It's not enough. It's not enough.

"Fuck," he whispers. His breath tastes like blood, and shitty energy drinks, and Gavin. He chokes back vomit, and tears, and the scream that's been boiling in his chest for months.

The worst part about it all is that Gavin's right. Nobody sees the Vagabond's face and lives. That's Rule Number One. Jeremy was dead the moment Ryan took off the mask. No matter what else is true, that fact is absolute. It's Ryan's fault for trying to go off-script, Ryan's fault for not following orders.

Why can't he just follow orders. Why can't he be the perfect assassin that Gavin wants, that the crew needs. Who does he think he is, anyway? A person? No. He's the Vagabond first and foremost, a scourge and a terror, the myth, the legend. He doesn't get to be Ryan anymore, and this is why.

Because Ryan is a strong, independent, well-adjusted man who can't do anything right.

It's why he even built the Vagabond in the first place. Working IT in some shithole call center gave him enough repressed rage to burn down a hundred cities the size of Los Santos, and there was nothing he could do about it. His first gun sat in his safe for nine months because he could never bring himself to use it. He just didn't want to go to jail, didn't want to get gunned down by the cops, didn't want to lose his job and his shitty apartment and his stupid little weekend hobbies. Shooting up his office, however tempting, would've made things inconvenient.

The mask was a much more impulsive buy than the gun, but it turned out to be a much more dangerous one.

Ryan had a lot of skills, even before he started practicing in earnest. Guns got on well with him, and so did bikes and cars. He's got the IT thing covered head to toe and back to front. He robbed his first bank about two years ago, on the weekend, with the mask and the gun, and went back to work on Monday because he didn't have anything better to do.

A thousand dollars wasn't much of a haul, in the grand scheme of things, but the rush was incomparable.

He's not sure when it got so out of control, when the Vagabond stopped being a costume and started being an entity, when Ryan became an accessory to his own life. He's not working that IT job anymore, that's for sure, and he's moved out of his shitty apartment.

He kills people now. That's a thing. It's a thing he's never really quite come to terms with, because he always does it with the mask on, and hell, people are all fucking awful anyways, so who gives a shit, right? Everybody deserves to get their head blown off. So long as he doesn't get caught, who cares? His conscience withered up and fell out years ago, long before the first bank. He guesses he's probably a serial killer, technically. Or something like that. A shitload of people are dead, either way.

But there's Jeremy. Or there was. He didn't seem so bad. He was just young and scared and doing his job.

And Ryan—as the Vagabond—was just following orders. So it's not his fault.

Isn't it?

Before Ryan can spiral any deeper into his own head, his earpiece chirps. He just about has a heart attack. Of course, of all the things to have survived the crash, of course that did.

"Ryan," comes the voice in his ear, and holy shit, it's not Gavin.

"Lindsay?" he croaks. His voice is rusty, hoarse. He has no idea how long he's been sitting here.

"Hey," she says. "Uh, you don't have to, like, respond if you don't want to. Just, well, Gavin mentioned you were, uh, out of town? For the night? So I wanted to just let you know that I can feed Edgar, if you're gonna be gone for a while, or. . . ."

Ryan rubs his eyes. He's so tired. Everything hurts. If only, he thinks, the Vagabond was a real person, and not just Ryan in a mask. If only he could be that cold and hard and empty, all the way through, all the time.

"Thanks," he says. "That'd be great. It's . . . gonna be a long night."

"Sure, sure," says Lindsay. "And hey, y'know, if you need anything else, uh, just let me know, okay? I would've called your phone, but it's off, so . . . so yeah. Gavin's letting me use the thing, because—we were kiiiiiinda worried you might've, like, wrapped yourself around a telephone pole or something? But it sounds like you're fine, so, I'll just—yeah."

"Yeah," says Ryan. There's a moment of silence, and then he blurts, "I wrecked my bike."

"You huh?"

"My—my bike. It's sorta . . . um . . . totaled. I might be a little stuck. Don't—tell Gavin. About the bike."

"Jesus, Ryan! Are you okay?"

No. He's so not fucking okay, he's the least okay he's ever fucking been, he wishes he'd left the helmet at home so he could've just spattered his idiot brains out all over the fucking desert.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he says. "Just uh . . . I miiiiiight need a ride home?"

She sighs. He can almost hear the comical marbly noise of her eyes rolling.

"Fine, I can come and get you. Where are you?"

"Uh. Somewhere off the Fifteen. To the—to the Los Santos side of Barstow."

"Nearest mile marker?"

"I'd have to kinda hike back to the highway, and I'm . . . not really. . . ."

"Still in the Vagabond getup, huh."

"Yeeaaaahhh, kinda."

"Okay, so give it to me in hours-driven."

"I don't know that that'll be much help."

"Why?" Her voice is annoyed, anticipating a stupid answer, which he gives.

"I was maybe going a little bit over the speed limit."

"A little bit, or a lotta bit?"

"A lotta bit."

"How much?"

"Iiiii was goin' about . . . uh, Real Fast miles per hour."

"Goddammit, Ryan. I didn't wanna have to do this, but I guess I don't have a choice." Her voice becomes muffled as she turns away from the mic. "Hey, Gavin, I'm gonna need his coords."

Ryan's blood turns to ice. Gavin's been listening the whole time. Gavin knows what he was out here doing, and Gavin will know why. Ryan rubs the painful lump on the inside of his left forearm, the hard knot just under the skin.

Gavin also, somehow, convinced him to get microchipped. There's no getting away from Gavin.

"All right," says Lindsay. "Hang tight, I should be there in about uh, an hour and a half. Okay?"

"Sure," Ryan says dully. "I'll be here."

It's not like he has any choice.

[micromanclub]

Tiny Titan Microman: the “Lost Adventures” - Year Three (1978)

(Continued from Year Two - see Year One for more details and credits.  Special thanks this posting to GanguStars.com and the original “Microman Trivia” transcription translated from the amazing Tette Hakase at Alpha-7 Laboratory)  

Chapter 24: January, 1978

The model for the CosmoCountach* is of course the Lamborghini Countach LP400. Ann, a Lady Command who loves machines, had begged Microman Takuma to build one for her.  

The rear portion of the CosmoCountach houses the computer brain of a robot inside it.  It can separate to function independently of the Countach, as well as transform into A*, B*, and C* types of robot-cars depending on the situation. ((* image links via MicroEarth website))

Chapter 25: February, 1978

This month, let’s introduce the Microman Commands who have appeared in Japan and have since become active.  The leader of the four is serial number M-171 “Takuma.”  He was revived in October of 1977 from a clay figure unearthed from ruins in Kamegaoka, Aomori Prefecture, and has an extensive memory of space science data.

M-172 Tetsuya was similarly revived in October of 1977 by a beam from Surveyor 1 that had scanned the Saibana ruins at Mount Osore in Aomori.  A historian, his knowledge of ancient ruins in Japan is unmatched, thanks mostly to his having been there at the time.

((Tette Hakase: It apparently goes without saying that he also knows the history of MicroEarth itself in detail.))

M-173 Tatsuya was revived in that same October, 1977 from inside a buried stone that was part of the Ooyu stone circles in Akita Prefecture.   A historian, his knowledge of ancient ruins in Japan is unmatched, thanks mostly to his having been there at the time.

((Tette Hakase: An editorial mistake copied the same data as Tetsuya’s.  According to “Microman Book,” Tatsuya’s brain is filled with data from energy research.)

M-173 Tsuyoshi, also found in October, at the Futatsumori buried shell midden ruins in Aomori.  Unrivaled in his knowledge of plants and trees, he has the brain of a brilliant biologist, particularly specialized in botany.

Chapter 26: March, 1978

MicroEarth, the homeworld of Microman, exploded several thousands of years ago. The people of MicroEarth were humanoids that were nearly identical to Earthlings and their abilities.  So why did they become cyborgs?

The Micromen on Earth today are referred to as cyborgs due to the mechanized portions of their bodies.  The inhabitants of MicroEarth had modified their bodies to become cybernetic organisms in order to survive on other worlds after their emigration to outer space following the explosion. ((Tette Hakase: According to Magazine Zero Zero, only the initial cyber-implants were performed on MicroEarth. It seems that they became full-body cyborgs at the time of their revival from their crystals.))  

However, while the people on MicroEarth were becoming the cyborgs that would become Micromen, this opportunity did not arise for those who were off-world in space colonies and on space patrols.  

Even so, they were beings similar to humans, which meant that unless they wore extra-vehicular gear (Hoods), they could not survive in the airless vacuum of space. As such, they are distinguished from Micromen as Hoodmen, and are just now reaching Earth.

Chapter 27: April, 1978

After the explosion of MicroEarth, the vast starship “Noah” which carried hundreds of Micronian refugees  continued to wander through the cosmos.  They remodeled the Noah into a grand colony-ship, where life could continue unhindered as they further researched αH7.

In addition, the manufacture of small craft began that could leave the Noah mothership to venture further into space and to other worlds.  Ten models were created, such as the HoodLiner, HoodGyro, HoodCart, HoodCessna, and HoodRacer.

Also, unlike the Micromen who survived through becoming cyborgs, the flesh-and-blood Hoodmen developed a special spacesuit suited to surviving and improving life in outer space. This is what is called the “Hood.” Capabilities of the Hood: (1) oxygen generator, (2) energy amplifier, (3) antigravity device, (4) infrared windscreen, (5) laser launcher, (6) energy shield , (7) radar, (8) αH7 shield—with this, the Hoodman’s abilities could be even greater than that of a Microman.

Chapter 28: May, 1978

Kit Machine No.1 HoodLiner: flies through space converting cosmic radiation into energy with a “Cosmic Wave Motion Engine.”  Its sole armament is a magnetic force beam, but is equipped with a radar device which can detect moving objects and lifeforms within 3,000 kilometers.

Kit Machine No.2 HoodGyro : equipped with a special engine called the “Land Fiber Engine”, it flies using a large Ion Propulsion propeller. Superior in maintaining stability, it is suitable for lower speed missions.

Kit Machine No.3 HoodCart: featuring high speed flight using a Hood Turbo Engine. Its deluxe power tires give it a high operating speed of 1200 kilometers per hour and is equipped with a built-in rapid-response photonic radar.            

Kit Machine No.4 HoodCessna: a multipurpose vehicle capable of both high speed flight with a Hood Turbo Engine as well as lower speed maneuvers with an Ion Propulsion propeller.  It is armed with a single magnetic force beam weapon.

Chapter 29: June, 1978

Kit Machine No.5 HoodRacer: propelled by a Hood Turbo Engine, with superior stability at high speeds thanks to its Balancer Wing.  In addition, it can avoid obstacles thanks to a built-in autopilot radar.

Kit Machine No.6 HoodJetter: flies at lower speeds with an Ion Propulsion propeller, but can switch to a Jet Ion Engine for higher speeds.  As a reconnaissance craft, it is unarmed aside from a defensive anti-gravitational barrier.

Chapter 30: July, 1978

Kit Machine No.7 HoodRotor: stores collected photons in its body as energy. By using the machine’s photon radar, a Hoodman can use its auto-pilot.  This is thanks to a built-in ESP control device.

Kit Machine No.8 HoodFighter: equaling the HoodCessna in performance, its propeller is made from lightweight and strong Hood-Dicanium alloy and is powered by a Hood Turbo Engine using Ionic Propulsion.  

Kit Machine No.9 HoodBuggy: “younger sibling” machine to the HoodLiner.  As such, it is equipped with a magnetic force beam, an anti-gravitation device, and can absorb and store cosmic radiation to power a cosmic wave motion engine.

Kit Machine No.10 HoodWinder: a Kit Machine with impressive armament.  Called the wave motion laser cannon, it can hit targets as far as 2000 kilometers away, powered by the same ion propulsion as found in the prior propeller-type machines.

Chapter 31: August, 1978

Where did this month’s featured Space Knight come from?  One day, a giant comet approached planet Jupiter.  Jupiter passed through the comet’s tail and the solid substance of the comet broke apart rained down as meteorites.

The meteorites poured down upon Titan, a moon of Jupiter, burning brightly in its atmosphere. But parts of them didn’t burn up, but rather fell to the moon’s surface. The Titans investigated the fallen debris.

((Tette Hakase: Titan is not a moon of Jupiter, but rather of Saturn. Because of the number of active volcanoes found on its surface, the moon Io is famous among Jupiter’s.  The most likely moon of Jupiter to harbor life is Europa with its liquid water ocean underneath its icy surface. Furthermore, it might be most possible to live on Ganymede using terraforming.  On that note, the Japanese cover to the novel “Boy of Ganymede”* by Robert A. Heinlein features art similar in composition to the diorama pictures of MicroEarth.  Jupiter’s magnetic field is far stronger than Saturn’s, so it seems more viable to revive those with magnetic power. So perhaps it could be that the meteors of the Space Knight really did come to Jupiter.  If we assume instead that rather than Jupiter, the micro-comet went directly to Titan, then it must have exploded passing Saturn’s orbit instead. It seems unlikely to just fall immediately behind from the rear of the micro-comet when it must be travellng faster than the solar system escape velocity of 400 kilometers per second.  The comet could thus have broken up crossing Saturn’s orbital path, with the meteorites that rained on Titan being discovered only after sighting the comet in the vicinity of Jupiter.))

Detecting  αH7, they realized that allies might exist inside and they began excavation of the meteorites.  The Titans extracted the crystal prisms fossilized within and revived them using the most advanced of cybernetic technology.

The revived allies were thus named the Space Knights. Not just able to transform into machines themselves, they also improved the Condor and Dober which were injured in fighting the Acroyears and prepared to face Arden, their latest foe.

 ((*Original English title: “Farmer in the Sky“ -- Microman Club))

Chapter 32: September, 1978

While it was introduced in the April issue, we’ll discuss the Noah further.  At the peak of its civilization, MicroEarth exploded and disappeared from the galaxy. The Micronians from MicroEarth had converted themselves to cyborgs in order to survive in the greater cosmos.

However, planetary explorers who had left MicroEarth before the explosion had found themselves with no home to return to, orphaned in the cosmos.  Thus it was that the starship RC-B Noah had been left to wander deep space with its crew of hundreds of Micronians.

((Tette Hakase: The Noah was to be released under the “RC-B Noah” trademark. It would seem that “RC-B” would mean “Radio Control Base”, but given that it was slated for release around the time of “The Super Control Arcadia” and “Super Control R2-D2”, it may actually have been similarly operated with ultrasonic waves.   The remote control functions would have included: forward, turn right, turn left, stop, launch missiles, and rotate the radar dish.))

Through the application of αH7, experiments were successful in the micronization of animal life. Then, to solve the pressing issue of food and living space, the crew reduced themselves to 1/20th of their original size.  Thus, with the Noah that much larger in scale to themselves, they decided to remodel her into a vast city-ship.

The RC-B Noah is capable of warp navigation. It detects dimensional distortions in space and warps through them into sub-space to re-emerge from other distortions at the destination.  If the state of the distortions at the destination are not calculated accurately, it can be very dangerous, so warps are always only made to ranges that are calculable.

Chapter 33: October, 1978

Where did the Police Keepers come from?  When the comet which had appeared in the vicinity of Jupiter reached Earth, the Micromen here detected an αH7 reaction from the comet.  The Transfer Fortress mobilized immediately to investigate.

The nucleus of the comet surrounded by its cloud of fine particles was a frozen world.  A part of the icy surface suddenly began to glow with a pale light, and then shattered as new allies emerged. They had come to help defend the Earth.

With their help, the micro-city construction project, known as Build Project, was able to advance far more rapidly. The Build Base would be completed ahead of schedule thanks to their own contribution of the Build Crane. Construction then commenced of the Build Lancer as a means of transportation. But there were also those who viewed the renewed prosperity of the Micromen as most unpleasant.  One in particular was Arden, emissary of evil, who came to Earth unsatisfied with the Acroyears’ lack of progress.  The nature of his robot-type spaceship, Arden Robo, remains unclear for now.  

Chapter 34: November, 1978

The Build Base became known as “Build House”: ��Unlike the bases up until now, it included living facilities for the Micromen to reside in on Earth, not unlike a human apartment complex. However, while apartment-like in appearance, in order to always be able to defend against Acroyears and Arden, as well as participate in disaster relief, new weapons were incorporated into its design, and it can change its formation during states of emergency.

The production method, known as “pre-fabrication,” uses factory-produced panels which are assembled at the location using special joints.  It is similar to the construction methods used I making human skyscrapers, but substitutes plastic for concrete.

Aside from the built-in crane, the panels are also lifted using the Build Crane. Climb Leader can be used to carry the crane.  The Build Bases are constructed at various sites, but the configuration may vary based on their assignment and on the local environment.

Chapter 35: December 1978

Build Base, the heart of Micropolis、 was finally completed. In order to fight against the Acroyears and Arden’s Earth invasion, the Microman PoliceKeepers cooperated with the Hoodmen, and assembled at the Build Base to construct more powerful machines.  

SpeedJumper: a super high-performance fighter-interceptor which is capable of going from the surface to spaceflight.  It incorporates a Dash-Shoot (ejector seat) for escaping the Acroyears’ heat rays in an emergency.

Air Roader:  a high performance craft developed by the PoliceKeepers for going on space patrol.  It runs on a cable circling the perimeter of the Micropolis, but can also travel on land by re-positioning its arm.

ClimbLeader: a caterpillar-car for developing worlds. It contains a powerful internal magnetic mechanism that allows it to climb buildings perpendicularly for construction. Armed with a missile and beam cannon, it can even operate in dangerous territory. (Continued in Year Four...coming later)

[shadow-wasser]

WIP Fic Whenever: Atlamorphs 1

WIP Fic Friday Whenever is a place where I will put a ‘quick and dirty’ first draft of either a short story or a chapter from a longer story. This will hopefully encourage me to improve my writing output. An Animorphs/Avatar: the Last Airbender Crossover. Yes it’s strange.

A Visit From Above

I’m Sokka. No, I don’t have a last name. I’m from the Southern Water Tribe, and my life used to be pretty normal. Or sort of normal.  Or… well, kinda. Actually, not really. I mean, it was normal for a while, but then the Fire Nation came and… whatever. Let’s just say that I have a pretty good reason to hate the Fire Nation.

What’s important is that one day, my sister and I found the Avatar. I know, crazy, right? He wasn’t even an old man or anything; he was just a kid named Aang. And after that we ran around, all the while chased by the Fire Nation, trying to get to the North Pole so my sister and Aang could learn waterbending. I was hoping to find my dad, who had left to fight the Fire Nation. And I had to protect Katara, ‘cause you know, she needs me.

I kinda thought my life couldn’t get any weirder, what with all the crazy kings and angry firebenders and giant spirit monsters.

Well, I was wrong.

The day started out pretty average. Or, at least, it was as average as life got for us. We were making good progress across the northern Earth Kingdom, but my sister constantly insisted on stopping to practice waterbending. You see, we’d just left the North Pole, where Katara and Aang had been training, and now she was a certified master. You’d think once she became a master she’d chill out for a bit. But no, not Katara. It was like she had to be better than anyone, even Aang!

By that point, we were really far into the Fire Nation territories, and evidence of war was everywhere. Ruined and abandoned towns and cities reared up from the ground, some of them so old they were already decomposing. Aang brought Appa down to one of these, next to a small dam and pool. Once, it was probably used to stock fish for a town but now it was covered with scum and smelled like rotting seaweed. Yuck.

But I guess smelly water is fine for waterbending, since we had no sooner unsaddled Appa than Aang and Katara went to it. They practiced their waterbending forms until nightfall, and by the end of the day, Aang’s legs were shaking and Katara barely had the strength to lift her dinner to her mouth. Obviously, they picked me to take first watch.

Frankly, I doubted that we even needed a watch. What Fire Nation patrol would be anywhere near this ruin? Everything valuable had long been looted out, and it’s not like it occupied a crucial military position. I thought it was a travesty that I wasn’t allowed to sleep, especially since I was the one who made dinner! I even made a vegetable dish for Aang! It was ridiculous…

I sighed and leaned back, gazing up at the stars. And the moon.

It’s a long story.

Anyway, I was thinking about the stars (and her eyes) and the constellations (and her hair) and the stories around them (and her lips). The stars in the northern hemisphere were different than the ones I had grown up with, and I wasn’t quite sure how to navigate by them.

After a while, my eyelids began to grow heavy. I began to think: Ah, what did it matter? How could you navigate with these stars? They move around too much, all glowy and colorful…

Wait a minute. Colorful, moving stars? Stars didn’t move like that, so unless I’d already fallen asleep and was dreaming, there was something definitely wrong.

Suddenly, I felt wide awake. I sat up and stared. No, I wasn’t imagining it. A huge blue star was moving around, flashing crazily right above me. My mouth dropped. What in the world was that?

“Guys!” I hissed. “Guys! Something’s happening!”

“Hwazza?” said Aang, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Fire Nation?”

“No, I… I have no idea.”

“Oh, wow,” said Katara, staring at it as she stood up slowly. “It’s beautiful.”

Aang got to his feet, staring at the light. “I… I think it’s coming closer.”

The three of us stood together, not quite sure what was going to happen. Aang picked up his stick and I scrambled for my boomerang. And as the glowing shape came closer, it was revealed as… well…

The only things I had ever seen that even came close to it were the Fire Nation warships, all shiny metal and thrumming engines. But other than that, I didn’t really have a reference. I had no clue what I was looking at.

It looked… sorta like a giant scorpion-bee. It had a body, I guess, and wings, sorta, though they didn’t flap. And it had a tail, like a scorpion bee. And it was all metal, with glowy blue bits.

By that point, I would almost have preferred that it was a Fire Nation machine. Because this… thing, whatever it was, was way freakier than anything I’d seen from them. Of course, being the great warrior I am, I was ready to fight it anyway.

As it got closer, all of my danger sensing hairs prickled. “It’s gonna land,” I whispered.

And it did land, touching the ground with a quiet crunch.

We stood there for another moment, waiting for it to do something. Aang was the one who stepped forward, staff at the ready. You know, ‘cause he’s the Avatar. Handling weird stuff is in his job description or something

“Hello?” he called. “Hello?”

(Hello.)

I blinked. I knew I had just heard someone say ‘hello.’ But at the same time, no one had said anything. It was like a voice inside my head, with no sound. I looked at Katara. Her eyes were like saucers.

“Aang,” I said, and my voice was not strangled with fear (okay, maybe a little). “Maybe you shouldn’t go up to the weird flying mind-talky thing?”

“No, Sokka, I think it’s a spirit,” replied Aang, his eyes wide. “And it’s hurt. See, it’s burned.”

He pointed, and yeah, there were deep, melted burn marks on its… um… front-part. My first thought, which believe me made much more sense than the truth, was that it had been attacked by the Fire Nation.

“Are you okay?” called Aang. “I won’t hurt you.” He put down his stick and held out his hands, to show he was unarmed (not, of course, that it mattered with Aang).

(I know.)

“I’m the Avatar. How can I help you? What do you need?”

(Do not be frightened.)

“I’m not.”

Speak for yourself! I thought, because, alright, I’d seen a lot of scary stuff (like the Fire Nation attacking the Northern Water Tribe, or giant Canyon Crawlers, or Aang in the Avatar State), but this thing? It was terrifying not because I knew what it could do to hurt us, but because I didn’t.

A thin arc of light appeared, like a doorway lit from within, opening slowly in the smooth side of the thing. I stood there, thinking how I had to protect Katara and keep her safe from the whatever-it-was, so I stepped in between her and it. The opening grew, like a crescent moon at first, then a full, bright circle.

And out stepped a…

Well, I guessed it was a spirit. It wasn’t all that much stranger than Hei Bai, to tell you the truth. The weirdest part was that it had no mouth.

It had four legs with hooves, and a body like a foxalope, and two arms and a head kinda like a person, except for the lack of mouth and the three slits for a nose. Also, it had eyes on stalks like an octoslug, coming out of the top of its head, in addition to these big green eyes that were where you’d expect them to be. The spirit was blue, all over, and had a really long tail, with a sickle at the end. The sickle looked sharp. And you know… deadly.

Then, it staggered, and fell to the ground. Aang immediately went to its side, and I saw Katara run over and kneel down. “No! Katara!” I said. “That thing could be dangerous!”

“Sokka, it’s hurt! Look, its side is all burnt up.”

The spirit’s side did look pretty burnt-up, but frankly that wasn’t what I was worried about at that moment.

“But Katara…”

“It’s a spirit, Sokka! We need to help it!”

(You cannot help. I am dying.)

This spirit’s voice was not like Hei Bai’s. Hei Bai, at least, had the decency to roar out loud where I could hear it properly.

Aang gasped. “What? No, please! Let us help you. What… what should we do?”

“I’m a healer,” stated Katara without preamble. “Show me where it hurts and I’ll-”

(No. I am dying. There is nothing you can do.)

Then, just for an instant, I felt it. The pain, I mean. From the spirit. It was awful, and I found myself running up to the creature, even sheathing my boomerang. I guess… I felt sorry for it, but at the same time I figured that since it was so badly injured, it couldn’t hurt us. Much.

Katara quickly drew up some mucky water from the stock pond and pressed it to the spirit’s side. It closed its eyes in what I assume was gratitude.

(Thank you. But please. I have to warn you.)

It sounded like bad news was coming, and, judging by the looks on Aang’s and Katara’s faces, I didn’t think any of us wanted bad news.

“What is it?” asked Aang, sounding like he didn’t want to know the answer.

(There are others coming. Yeerks.)

“Yeerks?” I said it out loud. It was a weird word, and it didn’t sound pleasant. “What’s a Yeerk?”

(They are aliens. Beings not of this world. From the stars.)

I frowned. He could have just said ‘spirits’ and been done with it. I mean, there was a time I wouldn’t have believed it, but a lot of things have changed, after meeting Aang.

“And the Yeerks are coming?” This was Aang. Of course, he would take it all in stride, being the Avatar and all.

(Yes. They have come to destroy you.)

There was a quiet moment, through which I could only silently curse. The Fire Nation was taking over the world, the comet was coming at the end of the summer, and now? Now we have a freakin’ invasion from the Spirit World!

“What do you mean?” asked Aang, his voice cut through with anxiety. How could I blame him? Spirit World stuff is his responsibility, after all.

(The Yeerks are different. They are not like you or I. They have no body. They live inside other species. They are…)

The spirit seemed to be at a loss for words. So it closed his eyes and seemed to concentrate. Suddenly a picture popped into my head. I saw a gray-green, slimy thing like an octoslug, only no tentacles. I grimaced. It wasn't a pretty sight.

(They are almost powerless without hosts. They- )

There was another blast of pain from the spirit, making me twitch. There was also a feeling of sadness, and despair. I felt another spike of pity for it. After all, Spirits were people too. Well, not really. But close enough

“I’m so sorry,” babbled Katara, still intent on her healing. “I just- I’ve never seen burns like these before. And your chi is... different. I’m not quite sure how to even start.”

(I do not blame you. But please listen. The Yeerks are parasites. They must have a host to live in. In this form they are known as Controllers. They enter the brain and are absorbed into it, taking over the host's thoughts and feelings. They try to get the host to accept them voluntarily. It is easier that way. Otherwise the host may be able to resist, at least a little.)

“You mean they… possess people?” That was Aang again.

(Yes, in a sense.)

I groaned. An army of Spirit-octoslugs, taking over your mind! NOT what I had been expecting that morning, not at all.

(We had hoped to stop them,) the spirit continued. (Swarms of their Bug fighters werewaiting when our Dome ship came out of Z-Space. We knew of their mother ship and were ready for the Bug fighters, but the Yeerks surprised us - they had hidden a powerful Blade ship in a crater of your moon. We fought, but... we lost. They have tracked me here. They will be here soon to eliminate all traces of me and my ship.)

“Okay,” I said. “Most of that made absolutely no sense, and… wait. Soon? They’ll be here soon? How soon? Like, right now?”

I drew my boomerang and looked around hurriedly, half-expecting the octoslugs to burst from the bushes ready to eat my brain.

(Soon. We do not have much time.)

Katara’s hands went to her mouth in horror, withdrawing her water for a moment. “What do we do?” she asked breathlessly.

The spirit smiled. Don’t ask me how I knew it was smiling, with no mouth. It was something with its eyes. (I sent a message to my home world. We Andalites fight the Yeerks wherever they go throughout the universe. My people will send help, but it may take a year, even more, and by then the Yeerks will have control of this planet. After that, there is no hope. You must tell people. You must warn your people!)

“Warn them that evil spirits are taking over? Oh MAN. You guys really could have chosen a better time for this! We’re kind of in the middle of a war right now, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Aang and Katara glared at me. “What?” I objected.

I looked back down at the spirit, and was met with a pair of strikingly green eyes. (Perhaps there is a way to better your chances,) it said. (Go into my ship. You will see a small blue box, very plain. Bring it to me. Quickly! I have very little time, and the Yeerks will find me soon.)

Ship? I looked up at the big, metal object. That thing is a ship? Like the Mechanist’s airship?

Aang got up and walked in, while Katara went back to trying to heal the spirit. I continued to glance around, waiting for the Yeerks to arrive.

After a few moments, Aang came back out of the ‘ship,’ holding the box and looking pale. It was a very small box, not much wider across than Aang’s palm. I wondered what could possibly be inside.

“Here,” said Aang, handing the box to the spirit.

(Thank you.)

The spirit held out the box, and we all looked at it. To tell you the truth, other than its bright color it wasn’t much to look at. It was featureless, except for some sort of writing around the top. I didn’t know the language.

(There is something I may be able to do to help you fight the Yeerks.)

“What is it? Some kind of spirit weapon?” I asked.

The spirit looked up for a moment, and I felt his confusion, but then he continued. (I know that your planet is undergoing war, and this will be difficult. But I may be able to give you some small powers that may help.)

We all looked at each other. Powers? I was no bender, but if he could help Aang…

(If you wish, I can give you abilities that no other human being has ever had.)

“You mean like… a new kind of bending?” Aang’s eyes were wide.

(No, this is not your ‘bending.’) answered the spirit. (This is a piece of Andalite technology that the Yeerks do not have. A technology that enables us to pass unnoticed in many parts of the universe - the power to morph. We have never shared this power. But your need is great.)

“Morph?” wondered Katara. “What’s… morph?” She looked at Aang, who only shrugged.

(To change your bodies,) the spirit said. (To become any other species. Any animal. You will only need to touch a creature, to acquire its DNA pattern, and you will be able to become it. It requires concentration and determination, but, if you are strong, you can do it. There are . . . limitations. Problems. Dangers, even. But there is no time to explain it all . . . no time. You will have to learn for yourselves. But first, do you wish to receive this power?)

Before I could even process what the spirit was saying, Aang bowed deeply and said; “Thank you, kind spirit. We are honored to receive your gift.”

I looked at Katara, who nodded with fierce determination in her eyes, putting her water away.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “How do we know that this… morphing thing is even safe to do? You said there were problems and dangers! I’m not about to enter some spirit war without even knowing what I’m doing!”

“You shouldn’t turn down gifts from spirits, Sokka,” said Aang calmly.

(I am no spirit.) said the… not-a-spirit. (But time is short. We must-)

The two stalk eyes floating above his head suddenly turned upward, and my gaze followed them. Two bright red stars were moving through the night sky.

(Yeerks,) said the not-spirit, and I could feel his hatred.

Then the not-spirit looked at me again. (There is no more time. You must decide!)

I looked at Aang and Katara, who looked back at me, their expressions hopeful. I groaned, and, though the rational, logical part of my mind protested, nodded. Sometimes, I’ve learned, you just have to accept the impossible.

(Each of you, press your hand against one of the sides of the square.)

I did, as did Aang and Katara. Then the not-spirit did as well, placing a blue, surprisingly delicate hand with too many fingers on top of the box.

(Do not be afraid,) the not-spirit said.

Something like a shock, only not painful, seemed to run through me. A kind of giddy tingly feeling.

(Go now,) the not-spirit said. (Only remember this - never remain in animal form for more than two of your Earth hours. Never! That is the greatest danger of morphing! If you stay longer than two hours you will be trapped, unable to return to human form.)

“Oh,” I said. “Great.”

Suddenly, I felt a wave of fear from the not-spirit. It was looking up with all four eyes now, searching for something.

(Visser Three! He comes.)

It was said with such vehemence and terror that I jumped. “Vis- Visser what?”

(Go now. Run! Visser Three is here. He is the most deadly of your enemies. Of all Yeerks he alone has the power to morph, the same power you now have. Run!)

Aang stood up, and Katara quickly followed. “I’m not running,” he said, his face grim. “You said these Yeerks are possessing people. So we’ll fight them!”

The not-spirit made the smiling eyes again. (No. You must save yourselves. Save yourselves and save your planet! The Yeerks are here.)

“But we can fight!” objected Katara. “I can waterbend, and Aang’s the Avatar! We can help you!” She gripped the lid of her waterskin.

The not-spirit turned its large eyes on Aang. (If you are truly the Avatar of this world, then it is even more vital that you survive. You cannot win this battle, as you are. Wait, and you will find the right time. Now, you must go.)

“Aang!” I said, looking up. The two big red lights had been joined by something else. Something big, and black, blocking out the stars.

Katara looked up, and gasped. She got to her feet and ran, stumbling over the rough ground. Appa was on his feet and bellowing, confused.

“We need to saddle him!” yelled Katara.

“Be quick about it!” I yelled back. I cast my eyes around desperately. “Where’s Aang?”

“I don’t know!”

“Look, see that wall over there? Get Appa behind it!”

Katara nodded and grabbed Appa’s reins, leading him over the rubble.

“Aang!” I called. “Aang, where are you?”

“Right here,” panted Aang. “Sorry, I… I got delayed.”

“Aang, quick, help us saddle Appa.”

The saddle was on him in about two seconds, and we got on.

“Yip yip,” I called, and we took off, Aang looking behind him at the strange not-a-spirit and his ‘ship.’

We weren’t too far away when a light, as bright as the sun but red, blazed into life back where we had left the spirit. Katara gasped.

“Turn around,” said Aang, his hands clutching the rim of the saddle.

I stared at him. “What?”

“Turn-”

“I heard you!”

“Sokka, I think he’s in danger. We need to go back and help.”

“Aang, he wanted us to leave! And when a spirit says ‘go away’ it’s probably a good idea to go away!”

“But-”

“I don’t want to get involved, Aang. This is spirit stuff.”

“No, he wasn’t a spirit.” Aang had that odd look in his eye, the look of being far, far older than he appeared. “He was something else.”

“But he said he was from another world,” objected Katara. “What else could he have meant?”

“He didn’t mean the Spirit World,” insisted Aang. “He meant something else. Something that wasn’t our world or the spirit world.”

“Well, like what?” I asked. The whole thing sounded ridiculous to me.

“I don’t know, but… when I stayed with him, he gave me a vision. He showed me a lot of things, about the Yeerks, and himself, all jumbled up. I’m trying to make sense of it, but… I think there are a lot of worlds. Not just two. And he came from one of those. Up in the sky.”

A shiver ran up my spine. Lots of worlds? How many could there be? Dozens? Hundreds? I suddenly felt very, very small. I didn’t like the feeling.

“Please, Sokka, he needs us.”

I paused, and looked back. The red light was still shining, like a fire but unflickering and far brighter.

“Aang… it… it’s not our problem. Let’s go.”

Aang stared back at me, looking hurt as we soared farther and farther away from the strange… creature.

But running away wasn’t going to help.

[olivereliott]

A Velocette MAC engine in a Yamaha XT600 frame? Ja bitte!

After cataloging the greatest custom builds in the world for over a decade, we’re often tempted to think we’ve seen it all. But we’d be wrong, because there’s always something new or interesting around the corner.

This creation from Germany made us pause, though. A ground-up scrambler build, using a Velocette engine in a Yamaha XT frame? That’s some creative thinking (and craftsmanship) right there.

The bike might be unusual, but in many ways, Sven Brands is the stereotypical modern custom builder. Although he earns a living as a graphic designer, he spends every spare hour working on bikes—and in particular, old Brit iron.

“My approach is to build them up from bits, rather than modifying an existing bike,” he says. “I wouldn’t call it a hobby—it is a vital part of my life.”

Sven works under the name ‘Garage Brands’ and this project started about two years ago, when he spotted a Velocette MAC single cylinder engine for sale.

“It was offered on German eBay. The seller told me it had been used in vintage speedway racing in East Germany. So I purchased it on behalf of my friend Bernd Meyer, as a decoration/object for his desk!”

The MAC engine is undeniably pretty: a 349cc unit that powered Velocette’s post-War commuter bike to a surprisingly rapid 75 mph (121 kph).

The engine was ‘stuck’ when Sven got his hands on it, so he took it apart and did a top end rebuild. Then plans changed when he accidentally discovered an abandoned Yamaha XT600 frame—hidden in a dark corner of his community workshop in Ostkreuz, part of the former East Berlin district of Friedrichshain.

“I started dreaming,” he recalls. “Why not turn the XT frame and Velocette engine, into a ‘bitsa,’ using the boxes of leftover parts from my previous Brit bike builds?”

Bernd was also exited by the idea, so Sven got working on the ‘XT-CETTE.’ He documented and shared each step of the process via Facebook, so although Bernd was located in Darmstadt, he could be involved in the process and give his input.

As you can imagine, there’s quite a bit of work needed to fit a Velocette engine into a Yamaha frame, and also balance out the handling. “The essential mods included shortening the frame by cutting off the rear loop, and cutting out the front cross tube that also acts as a head steady,” says Sven.

“I replaced it with two homemade plates to allow the MAC engine to fit. The stock XT engine bracket holds the engine at the front, but custom-made plates secure the engine and gearbox at the rear.”

The bike also features a set of very classy modified Norton forks. “To fit them, I machined two rings on the lathe and pressed them into the Yamaha steering head column to accept the smaller diameter Norton bearings,” Sven reveals.

“The fork itself is a mix and match of Roadholder and Commando fork parts.”

The rear suspension required a bit of lateral thinking too. “The swingarm comes from a Yamaha XT250, with alloy spacers machined up to compensate for the too-narrow width.” The two 12.9-inch shocks, tucked under the seat, are Girling replicas built by Emgo.

Sven must have a quite extraordinary of old bike parts, because the wheels are from a 1980s Armstrong MT500 military bike—along with the Grimeca front drum brake—and the rear brake is mix of Armstrong/Grimeca and German MZ 250 parts (“which surprisingly fitted with just a bit of filing here and there”).

The fuel tank is a modified prewar NSU fitment and the gearbox is an old AMC item (as used on Norton, Matchless and AJS bikes). But the oil tank, seat, primary-case and exhaust are all custom made.

The Velocette is now ready to be shipped to its new home in Bernd’s garage, and Sven is now working on a new project—a Norton featherbed special powered by a Vincent Comet single. A little more conventional…but equally intriguing.

Garage Brands website

[cutegirlmayra]

Could you do a story where our custom character fights Eggman in Forces? Don't worry about the custom character's personality or design, be creative! :D

(x Linked me to youtube? Idk)

Prompt:

(Custom Character will be known as ‘CC’ in this prompt, there will be no mention of gender titles, just so you are aware)

CC dashed into the scene having swung from their gadgets chord before landing with style and flare; one hand up while the other took the landing with their legs, but head up, tail slightly swishing.From that, they got up to look to their sides, seeing Sonic and Classic him come down on either side, before each turned to the giant skyscraper that was scraped into a mechanical pillar of sorts.

Lines of electricity ran up it in glowing panels, as Sonic nodded at the sight.

“We’ve made it. But now…” he spread his feet slightly, folding his arms and tilting his head to the left. “How do we get in?”

Classic also looked up, then to the obstacle presented, and started tapping his hand to his chin; thinking with the swaying of his head.

CC looked to both Sonics, before a narrowing of their eyes, and then, a look of pure conviction…

Stepping forward, CC took the gadgets from their feet, giving CC Super Speed, and unhooked them to put them on the tops of their hooklines.

Smiling in confidence, CC then shot the two hooklines out, as they spiraled up and curved slightly in the ascent.

Once they caught onto metal, they straightened out, having a whip lash going down the line before CC braced their self and tightened their hold.

The speed boost had the wires scale all the way up to the roof of the structure, stopping there as CC nodded in approval of their idea working out just right.

Tails would be proud.

CC walked back, making an almost angled wire for the two hedgehogs to scale like they usually do.

CC turned and winked.

“Woah… great thinking, buddy!” Sonic gave him a thumbs up, before spin dashing onto the line, then uncurling to race up in a flash of light blue. A comet was the only way to describe the climbing ball of light before CC turned to see Classic Sonic jump up, nudge him on the shoulder for praise, and get on the line.

He powered up with a spin, and then shot off like a pinball, the same blue ball, but smaller in size.

CC continued to hold the line, and once they were off, took off up as the line recoiled itself automatically.

CC’s legs kicked with the fast pull, but once up, comically flailed a moment in the air before landing a little harshly.

CC shook their head, getting up and holding it a moment, before looking apologetic to the two hedgehogs; who just kindly laughed and waited for CC to get their bearings again.

Sonic tapped his stomach, having a good chuckle, before Classic jogged over to the window, and pointed down.

The two walked over to the edge, peering down.

“That’s it!” Sonic whispered, pointing to the engine-like device sparking below the ceiling.

“That’s got to be what Eggman is planning to use to power the whole doomsday device.” Sonic glared, before turning back to his company.

“Shall we?” he smirked, as CC smiled widely, nodding in excitement before the two turned to Classic, who gestured cockily to himself with both thumbs.

He suddenly leaned onto the glass and it spun open under his pressure, as if he had meant to do that.

Sonic and CC looked down, in a bit of shock, before each other and then went down with him, Sonic calling out ‘yahoo!’ as they did so.

After defeating some enemies and racing away from Metal Sonic, taking him out, the three went to shut down the project, but as they approached…

“This is it.” Sonic gestured, “Since you’re the last survivor of this city… care to do the honors?” Sonic smiled, showing some consideration.

“You’ve made it all the way here this far. I’ve gotta hand it to ya, kid. I couldn’t have imagined, but you take after my own heart.” He shook his head, before encouraging CC by placing a hand on their back.

CC nodded, having been the only person who stayed behind to try and fight for their home… but this was going to end it all.

If they could destroy this…

CC put their head down… before taking a breath and looking determined as before to finish this war.

This would end it all… all the suffering… everyone would come back.. CC could be more than a hero, they could have their old life back!

CC reached their hand forward…

Suddenly, there was a tinge of sorrow, and the fingers curled back; unwilling to go through with it.

Sonic and Classic folded their arms and were angled opposite from each other, as Sonic cocked his head in curiosity.

“What’s wrong?” Sonic began to approach, but suddenly, the doors flung open and two wirey, rubber arms shoot out black chords that entangled and chocked Sonic and Classic, lifting them up into the air.

“Gerk! What!?” Sonic was lifted up, pulling on the chords around his neck, but they were too thick and strong to tug away.

Classic tried doing the ‘frog’ technique but it wasn’t doing much. Even at one point spinning his legs into the figure-8 wasn’t doing much good, and all struggling only ended in vain.

“Look out!” Sonic called, seeing another wire rear up, getting ready to spring out at CC.

CC held their mouth open, before jumping to dodge the attack and then throwing ninja stars, having electricity on them that cut through the wire. Since it was rubber, though, the electrocution didn’t disable the robot…

“Clever little hero…”

CC glared, clenching their teeth as they turned around, seeing the bane of their existence.

“Who-ho-ho-ho…”

Eggman laughed as his glasses shined, coming out of the darkness and into the light, having his hands together as he was in the dead center of a spider looking contraption, with wire like octopus arms.

“You should have stayed in your bunker! What makes you think you can defeat me!? When they couldn’t even stop me!!!” Eggman leaned forward, pointing dramatically to Sonic and Classic… whose expressions… proved his words true.

“Don’t listen to him-aH!” Sonic’s mouth was covered by the large wire.

“This isn’t your turn to speak, I’ve got all the cards in my corner, so you- shush it.” Eggman turned towards Sonic, showing hostility before looking back with his fake smile to CC.

“I thought I got rid of all the ‘hero-wannabes’ a long time ago!” he swiped his hand out, referring to Sonic’s long absence…

“Now then, hmmm.” he straightened himself out, looking pretty snug in his position right now.

“What makes you think… just because you’re hanging out with heroes… that you’re suddenly the junior recruit? Hmm? What makes you so SPECIAL.” Eggman’s contraption leaned forward, having Eggman and CC come to a close range, the closest CC’s ever been to Eggman’s true appearance- dispute all the screens that held it.

“Well?” Eggman glared down.

This was the question CC hadn’t answered yet.

Looking down, CC recalled why they hesitated.

If they went back to normal life… they would lose all they’ve gained…. Sonic… the teams… All their new friends…

It would still end in goodbyes…

Were they really worthy to truly call themselves heroes alongside these legends?

CC looked back at Sonic and Classic, frozen in time it seemed as they stared and waited for CC’s decision.

CC looked down again, before taking in a painful breath…

Their eyes opened completely, having finally found that answer.

Swishing out their flamethrower, they cocked it on their arm, frowning a moment before replacing it with a wicked grin, and blasting it in Eggman’s face.

Letting it go a little, they waved it up and down just slightly, getting him good for all he’s put them, and the team, through.

Once done, CC pulled away with a cocky grin on their faces, looking smug, eyes lowered and head held high and out.

Eggman blinked, his face completely black…

“You’ve sealed your fate then…” Eggman pulled his machine back, “Now.. DIE!”

Missiles launched, as suddenly CC’s expression turned back to shock, running before shooting out a hookline.

It carried them all around the device, before swiping a metallic-folding sword out and slashing Sonic and Classic Sonic free.

“Alright!” Sonic high-fived his younger self, as they spun and started zipping around, fighting as well.

“WHAT!?” Eggman let out.

Smiling, CC waited to swing around again, looking forward with a set goal and kicking their legs forward to get more momentum.

Coming back, CC took out some bomb grenades, swiping the item that held them dormant out with a bite and pull; tossing them down to explode.

“NOO!!!” Eggman blocked, raising his arms up and over himself, but the explosions took out most of the body of the machine. 

CC landed then, on top the spidery-wired arms and legs machine, seeing Sonic and Classic had disabled and cut through the other legs, they strode to the driver’s seat…

Eggman frantically clicked buttons, before pulling out a taser gun and firing.

CC threw up a materialized shield, then stomped the gun out of Eggman’s grasp, holding the sword out at the tip of his nose as he leaned away.

“Impossible!”

“You’re not so tough without your robots, Eggman!” Sonic dashed up, looking just as serious as Classic and CC’s faces, as they all stood by CC.

CC glared, waiting for Sonic to give a command.

“…Hehe… so are you.” Eggman looked about ready to surrender.. until he leaned forward with a wicked grin.

He shot out a beam that blasted the device he was suppose to be protecting from the mouth of his downed robot.

“Oh no!” Sonic saw the core heating up, a white light.

“No!” Sonic pushed CC out of the way of the powerful explosion, but CC was the one holding all the equipment…

With the blast, the team was fried, and CC slowly blinked their eyes from the pain, having been electrocuted and saw that all their gadgets were now spent and busted.

Sonic and Classic struggled to get up, as Eggman… surprisingly alright… was coming up behind them with a iron bar clutched in his hands…

He threw it up, “This ends all!!!”

CC’s eyes widened. Without their gadgets…

No!

CC shook their head, glaring with their teeth showing in the open frown, and hit their fist down to get themselves up.

They were still a hero!!!

CC rammed into Eggman, having the two stumble back into the white glowing core…

“Ah!” Sonic turned around, reaching a hand down, “Hold on!”

CC turned and grabbed the hand, right before falling, as Eggman grasped CC’s leg.

“Don’t let me die too!” Eggman whined out, as CC glared down, annoyed.

They tried to kick him off by slamming their foot repetitively into Eggman’s head, but he was pulled up regardless of their efforts…

Eggman coughed. On all fours, he held himself, before Classic jumped on his back, hitting him down on his stomach and then sitting on him, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere…

He looked down, pouting, putting his hands to his hips and then looking up proudly.

He then sat down, having another ‘offph!’ come from Eggman as he crossed his legs and nodded one sharp jerk of his head.

The deed was done.

Eggman was defeated, as Sonic and CC recovered enough to stagger over to the machine, and this time… Sonic beside them.

“You have a point.” Sonic commented, having one hand on CC’s back, as CC, looking to Sonic admiringly, smiled at his statement.

“We should do this… together.” they both placed their hand on the switch, and slowly pulled it down…

The whole of the room’s bright light slowly shut down…

“NOO!!!” Eggman struggled, shooting a hand up at the dimming light of his central core, as robots, small or ginormous, suddenly powered down all over the world.

“The Chaos Sphere! No…nooo-hooo-hooo…WHHHAA!!! It’s not fair! I was sooo close!” Eggman threw a tantrum, but Classic just rolled his eyes, watching Eggman look at his tensed hands then squeezing them shut before finally, Classic just side-kicked him and knocked him out; his face flat on the ground.

He shook his head, as Sonic laughed and CC chuckled.

“We couldn’t have done it without ya… pal.” Sonic nodded, creating a sort of tender moment, as he extended his hand to CC.

“Welcome to the legends of Heroes, buddy. You’re- officially now- a hero.” Sonic pointed to CC at the bridge of his statement, as if making sure CC believed it now too.

In acceptance, though still feeling humble about it, CC took Sonic’s hand, never feeling so much apart of something so grand and big, and looked deeply touched as he rose his head up to Sonic.

Sonic nodded again, one last good shake, before saluting off. “Now… to tell the good news!”

Though, everyone had already seen the results, and were rejoicing all over the globe.

Sonic, now in a big square, patted CC’s back, who shyly smiled back to him, before scratching the back of their head at the cheering crowd.

Slowly… they brought their hand down, looking at it, before nodding, clenching their fist tight, holding their head high and eyes closed.

They did it.

They earned this.

CC was a hero.

They opened their eyes and waved, as the crowd went wild, and grinned widely at their reaction to it.

Classic looked proud of him too, winking his approval to them, as CC gave a thumbs up  and wink back.

(Hope you enjoyed it! I tried to make it to where you could insert your own character’s name and the story would still work for you :) I hope Sonic forces has good cutscenes for our charas to shine! XD buuuut… I still want the canon cast to have the big spotlight too ^^; )

[wildflowerfiction77]

Burning Bridges 1

Burning Bridges

By Daniel Vera

8/23/2019 8:41pm

 A Story

A story of revelation.  A story of Heaven and Hell.  A story of love and fate.  A story of truth and fame.  A story of lies and pain.  A story of real and fake.  A story of lose and gain.  A story of friends and music.  A story of betrayal and death.  A story of the entire world and one mind.  A story of Hollywood and a story of forgotten people.  A story of rolled dice.  A story of lost love or never real.  A story of family decimated.  A story of a hidden treasure at the bottom of the sea.  A story of pyramids.  A story of ancient myth.  A story of future visions.  A story of spirits and man.  A story of warring armies.  A story of blank checks with no pen.  A story of a burning buildings in New York.  A story of gangs and government.  A story of black holes in Hollywood.  A story of hidden cameras and naked actors.  A story of Atlantis.  A story of superheroes.  A story of vampires and zombies.  A story of Bruce Lee and Nazi America.  A story of dead poets.  A story of songs sung by Mozart and Taylor Swift.  A story of the Military, CIA and MK Ultra.  A story of cartoons and rap music.  A story from a galaxy far far away.  A story of approaching comets.  A story of 33.  A story of black and white.  A story of Red Skins.  A story of nuclear war.  A story of blue water in the sky.  A story of James Bond and Gilbert Grape.  A story of TV commercials.  A story of fat kids.  A story of ninjas and samurai.  A story of rebellion and anarchy.  A story of dragons and phoenix.  A never ending story.  White tigers and black turtles.  Buffalo women and tobacco.  Hummingbirds and Butterflies.  Flowers and Hearts.  Stars and Sky.  Earth and Moon.  Dreams and walking...

 Dreams

I awoke in my pajamas.  It was a normal day like any other day.  I had 15 days to make $500 to pay the rent.  I had an ex girlfriend that butt dialed me while she was partying.  I listened for around ten minutes to see if I could hear if she was with a guy or having sex.  I couldn’t tell and so I hung up the phone.  I hated her because my heart felt pain every time I though of her with someone else and I knew she didn’t deserve it.  I guess it might have been the times that there was a genuine love that was being created, like the countless hours of laying in bed and staring at each others eyes while sharing kisses and caressing fingertips.  Or the unexpected gifts to encourage me to become a stronger man.  The late night fights where I sat at the locked bedroom door pleading to be let in, while she wept in bed because she got jealous of another woman she thought I was staring at when we went shopping.  Or the years of waking up next to her as the sunlight broke through the curtains and staring at her sleeping with a golden light shinning on her brown skin. red lips and black messy hair.  Or the times my arm fell asleep underneath her head as we cuddled for as long as possible until we had to readjust to find a diagonal leg and arm pattern, still crossing touch.  Then I thought about all the times she destroyed my heart and continued my day. 

I began walking on the air to meet with God.  We had scheduled a few meetings.  The great creator always knew I would be late.  I guess God knew me pretty well and adjusted time itself to add the twenty minutes for me to catch the 9:14 cloud.  On this day we talked about the meaning of struggle.  I had been having this reoccurring dream about being crushed by wave after wave in the ocean, and not being able to catch my breath.  God reassured me that the waves were meant to strengthen me and that I wouldn’t drown.  Although it was somewhat comforting to hear, I rebutted that the dream felt real and it was causing me stress.  I had felt that the waves were unneeded and they were keeping me from being able to recover from previous ailments that I was still healing from.  God just smiled and looked at me with grace.  When I left the office I was thinking of some toast and jam, since I had forgotten to eat before I left.  I did thank the Great Spirit that gives life and did say some prayers before scheduling a meeting a few months later and commenting on the beautiful flowers to the secretary.  It was a good meeting.

I then proceeded to fighting monsters and saving damsels.  I thought I was doing pretty good.  It was almost like living in a movie, where you get to be Conan.  But I didn’t realize it was all the parts where he was being held captive, being tricked or stuck in a room full of mirrors.  So I turned the channel to see if I could find out another version of the same story that was a little more modern.  That's when the television went static and I started howling with the old mystics from the Dark Crystal.  I had fallen asleep to that movie, and somehow I was joining in the call to gather the ones that were left to make the journey.  I thought it was just a happenstance, until the small town started to share a video that someone had recorded, until it became the new thing.  They made a dance, a soft drink, a Netflix show, chicken and pizza commercials, the next 5 years of billion dollars movies, including Star Wars, was about it.  They even started bombing countries and making new religions.  It was crazy.  There wasn’t a TV or movie screen that it wasn’t on every five minutes for years.  I even saw it on Facebook.

Then they the military started burning the forest to sell lemonade and electric cars that still used oil and nuclear power.  This is when I knew something was going on.  Then a bunch of ex presidents started appearing in Kanye West videos and Quentin Tarantino movies with “kiss me, I am Jewish” stickers on their foreheads.  This is when I knew things were getting out of control of even the CIA.  The girl scouts started selling machine guns to the homeless.  The TV news people were smoking joints, eating hot dogs and advertising “Shamoo”.  The comedians began making signs to love one another and became civil rights politicians and activists.  They didn’t say any good jokes though.  I’m not sure why, but the politicians began making everyone laugh.  It was a circus that was only topped by Silicon Valley taking Ubers to Outer Space.  They said they were going to mars, but they took too much LSD and ended up going too far, and circled back to China, not knowing it was a parallel universe and they were lost.  Meanwhile on earth, the Patriots won another Superbowl which made ten in a row.  Everyone dressed in Captain America costumes during a white rappers reunion, singing country songs with the Spice Girls paying tribute to all the musicians that were killed in the last seven years.  It was a really long half time show.  Its still going on.  Kapernick has Snoop Dogg braiding his hair while they start a venture capital business with Donald Trump and Kevin Spacey for a Martha Stuart line of hemp products at Walmart.  The hemp is really Monsanto bio engineered, but they figure they’re burning down the Amazon in Brazil, no one will notice.  

So I turned off the TV and ate some waffles.  My ex girlfriend left some blueberries in the freezer, so I used those with some peanut butter and jam and butter.  As I started eating the five stack, I saw something moving out my window.  I saw Miley Cyrus twerking on the front lawn.  I looked at the waffles and thought maybe there was something weird in the ingredients.  Then George Bush, the CIA guy, was dancing with her and I knew the waffles had some weird shit going on, so I threw them in the garbage.  Fucken ruined my breakfast.  Every five minutes I looked out the front window to see if they had left, and sure enough, they were still there, except they would change faces.  Next was the Rock and Scarlette Johanson, then Bill Gates and the Queen of England, then the White Stripes.  I thought it might have been the blueberries.  She said she ordered them from Ashton Kusheten, and that dush liked to play jokes on people, and started doing Bruce Willies wife, so I figured that was it.  They must have been laced with something.  I took a nap till they wore off.  

The next day I was able to make it to the car without anything super weird happening.  Someone did steal my Bruce Lee movies and my kids toys from the car.  I must have left the window open.  I knocked door to door around the neighborhood to ask if anyone had seen anything weird, other than Miley Cyris.  It dawned on me that I never spoke to any of my neighbors for the five years I had lived in the house.  The first house was a bunch of cats sitting around a living room.  They were doing yoga and smoking huka, so everything they said sounded like cats fighting underwater.  I didn’t get any answers.  The next house was three little pigs and a wolf.  They were watching the news and eating cereal.  They said they had just moved in and didn’t see anything.  It was peculiar that they had a giant poster of me in their kitchen.  I figured they must be fans.  They smelled like weed.  Every house had some fairytale vibe to it, or a Disney cartoon.  Squirrels, Vikings, Revenge of the Nerds, even a Steven King house.  The last one was a Dukes of Hazard reunion.  They were cooking burgers on the bar b que, and they were nice enough to have the girl in Daisy Dukes make me a quarter pounder with cheese.  We started seeing each other.  I called her when I got horny and she would come over.  I still didn’t find my stolen stuff.  I figured Karma would make the rounds.  

When I drove away, I started seeing smoke.  I wasn’t sure where it was coming from.  It didn’t seem to be originating from the car, so I started looking around.  Planes were flying past me and leaving these trails of smoke, but that wasn’t it.  I looked in my rear view mirror and saw burning bridges across the whole country.  That's when I knew who stole my Bruce Lee movies.  

  Meat and Cattle

 In a long dark cavern, I saw a few faces staring in front of sunlight, casting shadows like dancing puppets.  They had orders to submerge me into submission, by who, I wasn’t sure.  During that time, there was a lot of turmoil happening in the world and in the small town in which I was living.  It seemed that the local white power groups were stock pilling machine guns and ammunition.  They would have weekly fight club gatherings in the mountains and practice military drills to kill “niggers, Jews and spics”, and now the Chinese and Russians.  I guess they were Irish and Scottish, but probably a mixed breed of good ol’ boys.  

I’m not sure how “the gays” became part of the picture, but they arrived in droves.  They all gathered at Duff Tavern, a place in the Simpsons cartoon.  It was absolutely insane.  Along with the Trans community, there were hipsters, hopsters, fibsters, and mobsters.  Not to mention, some pretty hot women in the form of pixies and catholic nuns.  On the jukebox was Rage Against the Machine, because sometimes I would hack the airwaves, just to annoy the patrons.  The Clamsters would stand watch outside while the Bob Dylan look a likes would secretly grow weed and sell it to Colorado, Texas and New York.  They had a good set up going.  They would smuggle pounds of grass in their beards.  When asked why their beard was green by the police or FBI, all they would have to say is it was an Irish thing.  It seemed to work.  

But after a few years, the government went in and started replacing some of the farms with robots.  The robots would answer to the Matrix and all was well for a while.  I noticed this because I lived in the small town and would often have art shows and play music with the other monkeys.  Sometimes on the news they would televise a social order black ops operation.  In the war of the weeds, all the multi-armed gangs would hide in the mountains behind trees and rocks.  They would shoot at each other just to make sure no one was stealing their crops.  The cops didn’t mind, since they would get a part of the profit, and sometimes the whole thing, depending on orders from the FBI, and ultimately the CIA and Homeland Security.  

They would cut up a cow and leave it hanging upside down to attract the wolves.  They caught a lot of wolves that way and turned them into guard dogs.  The cats had to be more careful since they were house cats, and not the Lions they wanted to be.  Some of them thought they were Tigers, but that was just something on TV.  It was a long summer.  Everyone was waiting for 2012 and aliens.  They would give palm readings and read the cards on your forehead to make sure you were a monkey.  God forbid you might be Godzilla.  That would mean you were Japanese and those nips tried to bomb Pearl Harbor in a movie made by Steven Spielberg in the 80’s.  

The new threat in Los Angels was the threat of the Mexicans and particularly, the Zapatistas.  So the U. S. planted a tariff on marijuana distribution.  Although they needed the plant to help with cancer and injured vets brains, they had to make sure they could use that extra money for more robots.  They started pumping all that money into Silicon Valley and I Phones.  They needed to make sure Facebook would convince people that everyday is business as usual.  No one can have a new thought, it would counter balance the already shaky control system that sat upon fake money.  So to go with the fake money, they created fake news, fake wars, fake presidents, fake jobs, fake laws, fake food, fake causes, fake movies, fake soap operas, fake drugs, fake toilets, fake videos, fake people on the internet, fake names to go with those people, fake gang wars, fake drug busts, fake homeless people, fake housing crisis, fake TMZ news, fake Kanye, fake cake, fake husbands and wives, fake kids, fake Wall Street, and fake music.  Along with those fakory items, they made fake laws and juried trials.  I saw a documentary on Netflix.  It could have been fake.  

  The Cafe

 I would go to the cafe daily.  It was like a meditation.  Sometimes I would play music there, sometimes I would draw.  I always noticed the same faces.  Once in a while, a gorgeous red head or brunette would come sit at my table and flirt with me over a mocha.  At this time I was through with blonds, kinda like Arnolds’ “Total Recall” movie.  It was a good five years.  I never had so many Red Sparrows fly to my window at once.  I was a greedy kid at the ice cream shop, so I tried all the flavors.  This town was a small concentrated town, so I didn’t know they were connected to all the gangs in the world.  I didn’t know that they have been hunting savages for generations, and they had marked me as soon as I grew some pubic hairs.  They already had submitted my parents and were working on the rest of the Wu Tang Clan.  So when I found out, I tried to warn everyone, but it was too late, they had already turned or were captured.  The Cladavors had used Aliens to possess each other and play role playing games to kill the time.  

They did pay well, from all that weed and coke money.  They gave my ex boat rides and free soda.  They even gave all of the Clan free weed fields and free cars and houses.  But really, they had to do a lot of favors in return, like video tape me having sex with gorgeous women and then they would make fake porn and put it on the fake dark web.  The pink clampers liked to watch those between football games and CSI.  They made a lot of money from those as well.  Meanwhile, I was figuring out what kind of mocha I wanted.  I wrote a lot of letters during that time and finished a lot of paintings.  I learned how to sing, and practiced on my mating skills.  Every time I would walk outside, I saw five clams and three turtle doves.  My stomach hurt a few times, but the Doctor reassured me that I was fine and had nothing to worry about.  So I kept eating ice cream, since it was free.  I got good at it, I could have won a contest or the Olympics.

But then my arch rival appeared in the form of my ex.  She got even better looking and I got fat from all the ice cream.  I was still practiced up, but she had some Kriptonite on me.  I didn’t realize she had been zombified as well.  I wasn’t sure if it was the same quirks or new ninja moves she was using on me.  One thing that was sure, was that she always won.  It frustrated me to the point of no return.  She kept coming back to me for more ice cream, but I refused to share.  I threw it in the freezer along with my heart.  When she stopped calling, I pulled my heart out, but it stayed cold for too long, and I had thought it died.  I put it in a vase and watered it every now and again.  Mostly just wrote poems about it.  

Eventually I stopped going to the cafe, since that was the place that I had met her.  I started making instant coffee, then started brewing my own from a used coffee machine that had a timer and automatic alarm clock built in.  Every time I would drink a special brew, I would remember the mocha’s we shared.  I would see pictures of her on Facebook once in awhile drinking mocha's with Asheton Klamster.  That really pissed me off.  Then she got the role as Wonder Woman.  It was like, “what the fuck?”  Fuckn Taylor Swift and Kanye, Miley and Mickey, Goons and Goblins, Jews and Gentiles, Obama and Trump, Star Wars and Dumpsters, Guns and Weed.  All I needed now was my family to turn on me and the Government to MK Ultra me.  I saw Bluebirds in the midst of Project Damn Daniel.  It was astounding.  It was almost like they had watched the Dark Crystal too.  

They got me on the run, and then I saw Kapernick with an Afro.  I had thought he was Middle Eastern.  Then all of a sudden, blond people started showing up.  They were dancing naked everywhere I went.  I would go to the grocery store, and there they were.  I would go to the bank, and there they were.  I would go to the book store, and there they were.  At first I thought they were some kind of religious group, then I concluded that they were a rock band in a video game.  I had saw it advertised on a commercial a few years prior.  It was a game from MK Tupac.  I had read it in a New World Order book from the early 1900’s.  Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud co-wrote it.  That’s when my brother called me to ask me how I was doing.

The only answer I had was “How the fuck do you think I’m doing?”  Then my first ex called to tell me she’s having another baby and if I wanted to co-sign for a new car.  I was like, “Bitch, I haven’t seen you since the 1800’s, how the fuck does your ghetto ass want a co-signer after you stole my sperm in 97 and then stole my life in 99?”  Needless to say, I co-signed.  I thought it was for the kid, but I think she got her nails did.  

  The Science

 It was a virtual video game and everyone wanted to play.  It was one of those soldier games where everyone is a shooter.  I had thought I had seen my brother in a bunker with a gunshot wound to his side.  He was bleeding.  He was drinking with his Clamster buddies, and they had asked if I wanted to play some football that weekend.  Since we were in a video game, I figured sure, why not.  While drinking a Natty Ice and smoking a cigarette, he asked how to defeat all the white men.  I looked at him, and wondered why he was drinking and smoking while bleeding on the rented floor.  I figured he had marital problems, he was in a slump and the locals must have been fucking with him.  I contemplated the question, and from the years of slavery and genocide, I didn’t really see a scenario that they would recede control of the area, America or stop their plans for world domination.  So I told him I don’t know.  It was a confounding question since his wife and his kids and his friends were white.

So his buddies were usually missing some teeth from some Oroville days.  I had known them for some time, so when playing football, I didn’t think much of it.  It did piss me off that they didn’t throw me the ball and kept me on defense.  I still disrupted most of the plays.  They just liked to throw interceptions.  They asked me if I wanted to be a bad guy in one of their movie projects that they were conjuring up.  Since I knew these guys had almost zero talent for movie making, I kindly agreed, if they did all the work.  They proposed some Star Trek and I proposed some Twilight Zone.  They proposed a Batman spin where the bad guys would be sitting at the table.  I figured I was Batman, so I’m not sure that would work out for me, unless I beat their face in at the end of the card game.  I guess my brother played the Joker.  

So I drove away, and then the game turned into Mad Max, Fury Road.  I guess Northern California wanted to keep the water, and Southern California didn’t like the country people and they wanted the water.  Everyone started throwing fire bombs at each other, it got crazy.  So the South paid off some ”official” people with the Damn money, and they shared the water with the weed growers and Mothers Milk.  All the gangs lived happily ever after, including the military and Hollywood, which we all know, are the most important gangs in California.  They eventually brought Donald Trump to rake and threw fake Rambo in military prison for trying to start a rebellion, which was actually a sting to begin with.  It was a complicated video game on story mode.  Most people just like to play on vs. Mode.  

I only rented the game, so I didn’t really play it, everyone I knew loved it and bought it.  I guess the marijuana dispensaries were selling it along with cookies.  I would rather spend my time watching Netflix and watch some Daredevil or Breaking Bad.  Those were some epic shows.  I used to just watch the Documentaries, but ever since I bought a subscription, I like the dramas.  It always begs the question, does art reflect real life, or does real life reflect art.  Sometimes I think to myself, when I notice the panic attack people have in the world around me, how could everyone not notice how much we believe other people to be better than us.  How much we fear other people to be better than us.  How groups of people feel threatened by others greatness, and that they don’t take the time to nurture their own greatness.  In a hysteria to feel loved and be seen in a crowded world, we try and find the flaws of the others around us to lift ourselves up.  Flowers fighting for sunlight.  Animals fighting for food and water.  Instead we are water and lightning.  We are the light.  

It makes me reminisce on the struggle of the waves crashing.  I find the breath I need in the moments between the struggle.  If I panic, I miss those moments while fighting against the ocean.  If I don’t panic, I am able to breath steadily and find the least resistance without drowning.  And if I live to tell the story, what else would a story need but you to tell it.  How many stories have saved your life?  How many stories gave you strength to carry on?  How many stories have let you share in the tragedies and triumphs of another?  Stories that made you laugh and cry, ones that you have learned from and ones that didn’t make sense till years later.  To play the video game in story mode or just in versus?  I personally like to write my own story.  

[somar78]

A Brief History of the Vincent Black Shadow – The World’s First Superbike

In the Beginning there was Vincent HRD

American author Hunter S. Thompson once said of Vincent’s world’s first “superbike”: “If you rode the Vincent Black Shadow at top speed for any length of time, you would almost certainly die. That is why there are not many life members of the Vincent Black Shadow Society.”

The Vincent Black Shadow qualifies in almost every respect as the world’s first “superbike” both in terms of the sheer power and speed it was capable of, and in terms of the riding experience it delivered: a bike so powerful that you might indeed expect to end your life on earth and go to join the choir invisible if you persistently pushed it to its limits.

The story of this British motorcycle that actually managed to sow fear into the heart of Hunter S. Thompson begins all the way back in 1928, when young motorcycle enthusiast Philip Conrad Vincent began to fulfill his dream as he purchased an established motorcycle manufacturing company HRD, which itself had been set up by an ex First World War pilot named Howard Raymond Davies.

Phil Vincent had been advised to purchase an existing company name rather than starting out simply using his own name: so he re-branded HRD to become Vincent HRD and established his workshop in the town of Stevenage, which was about 28 miles north of the British capital, London. HRD had a good reputation, in part built up because of motorsport success, making it a good base from which Phil Vincent could launch his business.

Phil Vincent had tried his hand at building a motorcycle in 1927 and had designed what he believed would be a perfect rear suspension system which he patented in 1928: it was called the Vincent cantilever suspension and it was incorporated into his first Vincent HRD motorcycle and all that followed it.

His cantilever rear suspension consisted of vertical parallel triangulated cantilevers that extended like a either side of the rear wheel. This cantilever unit was pivoted at the bottom on the bike’s rear frame, with the top attached to a sprung telescopic shock absorber, the outer point of the triangles attached to the rear wheel axle.Vincent’s first motorcycle used a single cylinder engine from J.A. Prestwich (JAP), with some later machines using Rudge-Python engines until Vincent bit the bullet and began designing and building their own engines.

Phil Irving and a “Newton’s Apple” Moment

Phil Vincent was joined in his business by Australian engineer Phil Irving in 1934, which was the year that the engine’s bought in from outside suppliers all failed in that year’s Isle of Man TT. Phil Irving came on board to design a Vincent engine that would be just as impervious to the gremlins of Murphy’s Law as human engineering could make it, and so he created a new Vincent 500cc OHV single cylinder which was called the “Meteor” – it produced 26hp @ 5,300rpm: a sports version of it called the “Comet” was also created.

The British loved 500cc single cylinder engines, and many still do, they’ve got a personality all their own. However, there came a day when Phil Irving was sitting at his desk, possibly thinking about the American penchant for big V-twin engines, possibly not, but whichever is the case Irving had a moment quite like that experienced by Sir Isaac Newton when, while sitting under an apple tree he saw an apple fall and realized that nothing moves unless acted on by an unbalanced external force.

In Sir Isaac Newton’s eureka moment he discovered gravity: in Phil Irving’s case he put two drawings of his single cylinder Meteor engine over each other and arranged them into a V-twin. We don’t know if he exclaimed “eureka” but in an instant he understood that he could create an engine that would make an American V-twin aficionado begin to drool.

This engine would be of almost one liter in capacity and in a Vincent motorcycle would cause it to move rather rapidly, and rapidly with twice as much personality as a single. They decided to call it the “Rapide”, and the V-twin Vincent motorcycle was born.

The Vincent Rapide: The Father of the Black Shadow (1936-1955)

The V-twin engine that Phil Irving created was made with a 47° “V”, because the rearward set of the engine’s idler was 23½°, so putting two together meant 23½° + 23½° = 47°. The V-twin engine could be built using the same cylinders, heads and valve gear as the existing 499cc Comet single and would be fitted with a pair of Amal 1 1/16″ carburetors.

There was a frame sitting in the workshop that had been fabricated for a customer named Eric Fernihough but he no longer needed it so it was just begging to be turned into a V-twin fire-breathing motorcycle, which is of course exactly what happened. We don’t know who was first to take the new bike for its maiden run: no doubt there was a queue of eager test riders.

The first production model installed with Phil Irving’s V-twin was made on a Vincent Comet brazed lug and steel tube diamond frame lengthened just enough to shoehorn the larger V-twin into it: the larger engine left no room for an oil tank for the dry sump engine, so the fuel tank was fitted with separate oil tank compartment.

Like all Vincent motorcycles from Phil Vincent’s first prototype of 1927 onward, it was fitted with his patented cantilever rear suspension and at the front was a Brampton girder fork with friction dampers. Brakes for the Rapide were made using the best of 1930’s technology: dual 7″ single leading shoe drums for both the front wheel and the rear.

That first iteration of the Vincent V-twin was fitted with a gear type oil pump which operated at a quarter of the engine speed and internally fed oil to the big end bearings and outer camshaft bushes. To get oil to the rocker bushes and the rear of the engine four rather pretty external pipes were used which gave the engine a deliciously complex look.

Curiously the Philistines of the motorcycle press did not appreciate this plethora of external pipework and named the engine “the plumber’s nightmare”. This was an enthusiasts motorcycle, not a “gets me from A to B” piece of boring transportation. The owner’s manual for the Series A Rapide suggested that “After every 1000 miles, disassemble the engine and check everything. Reassemble.”

So we understand that this was a bike for someone who would happily spend a day or weekend in their garage contentedly pulling their bike apart and then reassembling it ready for the next 1,000 miles”. We suspect that many young Vincent owners had to make a choice between a girlfriend or their motorcycle, and many would have chosen the motorcycle as the less expensive, and less complicated of the two!

This bike, the Series A Vincent Rapide, was to be the parent of the post-war Black Shadow: but before this was to happen a different kind of black shadow, that of the Second World War, was to darken the lives of millions of people all over the world.

Munitions, and a Lifeboat Engine

It would appear that once his engine designs were established at Vincent, Phil Irving decided to look for other engine design related work and so he moved to rival motorcycle maker Velocette in 1937. The world is a rather unpredictable place however and by 1939 a German gentleman with a penchant for Charlie Chaplin mustaches and world domination went to war and invaded Poland, causing Britain to be at war with Germany and her Axis allies. This caused Vincent to stop making beautiful and exciting motorcycles and instead turn their hand to making wartime munitions.

It was during those years making things that explode that Phil Vincent turned his mind to making the V-twin Rapide even more explosively rapid. Engineer Phil Irving was lured back to Vincent by the opportunity to design a new lifeboat engine, but it was the prospect of a post-war world in which he would design Vincent motorcycles that would go even faster that was the real attraction.

During the war years Phil Vincent and Phil Irving worked on design improvements that could be made to their motorcycles. One of the fruits of this work was the elimination of unnecessary parts. In his memoirs Phil Vincent makes the statement “What isn’t present takes up no space, cannot bend, and weighs nothing — so eliminate the frame tubes!” For the post-war Series B Rapide, and thus for the new Black Shadow that was exactly what was done.

The Vincent Black Shadow – The Superbike that Almost Wasn’t (1947-1948)

As soon as possible once the war was over Vincent debuted their much improved Series B Vincent Rapide. These were years when Britain was still in post-war austerity. People were still on ration books for food and gasoline/petrol and supplies of raw materials to industry were strictly rationed.

Because of this the compression ratio for the V-twin Rapide engine had to be kept down to 6.8:1 to cope with the variable quality low octane “pool petrol”. Steel was in short supply and high demand while aluminum was comparatively plentiful, and stainless steel was also fairly readily obtainable.

This tended to favor Phil Vincent’s desire to use aluminum and stainless steel where it could appropriately be used. In his mind his were to be the motorcycles to replace the highly esteemed Brough Superior which had ceased production in 1940: and to replace them not only in terms of performance and handling, but also in terms of the quality of manufacture.

The process that led to the creation of the first Black Shadow was initially the refining of the Vincent Rapide design, because the Black Shadow was to be a high performance version of the Rapide. The original 47° V-twin was altered to 50° to enable the engine to be used as a stressed member. This was done for the post-war Series B Rapide on which the Black Shadow was based, sharing the same OHV V-twin air-cooled dry-sump engine and the same 998cc/60.9 cu. in. capacity with the same bore of 84mm and stroke of 90mm: in fact Black Shadow engine’s and parts were specially selected off the Rapide production line.

This pre-war Phil Irving design featured short pushrods operated by gear driven camshafts which were mounted high in the engine’s crankcase to keep the length of the pushrods short, which in turn kept them lighter and ensured better stiffness. The “plumber’s nightmare” of external piping was gone, moved to the internals of the engine away from the eyes of the heartless critics.

Phil Irving had designed both his original 500cc single and the later 998cc V-twin’s valves with upper and lower guides to maximize support and minimize the potential for failure under the stresses of racing. The rockers were forked to fit around the valve stem and acted, not on the top of the valve, but on a shoulder on the stem. This design feature distributed the pressures of forcing the valve down on two sides of the valve stem providing balance and support superior to the conventional method of having the rocker press directly on the top of the valve, purpose designed for high performance reliability.

The new simplified frame, for which there needed to be no down-tubes because the engine served that support function, used a box section which enabled the oil tank to be incorporated into the upper frame member. Vincent’s cantilever rear suspension had its pivot point mounted directly on the engine/gearbox unit. These improvements served to make the 1946 Vincent Rapide Series B, the perfect foundation on which Vincent would build the world’s first “superbike”.

Despite the fact that many consider the Honda CB750 to be the world’s first superbike, it wasn’t really of course but importantly it was the bike for which the now ubiquitous term “superbike” was coined. We catch a glimpse of the difference between these two iconic motorcycles in Hunter S. Thompson’s book “Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ’72”, in which he tells us that Chris Bunche, the editor of Choppers magazine, said the Vincent Black Shadow was “…  so fast and terrible that it made the extremely fast Honda 750 seem like a harmless toy.”

And indeed, comparing the civilized Honda CB750 with a Vincent Black Shadow is rather like comparing a Mitsubishi Evo with a Shelby Cobra, both are quick, but the Mitsubishi just can’t compete with the look, the visceral sound and the muscle delivery of the Cobra. What led to the creation of this motorcycle that made a Honda CB750 seem tame? The answer would seem to be that two men had a passion not just for speed, but for the speed to be experienced in the most unforgettable way possible: enter the Black Shadow, a bike that Evel Knievel would have loved.

But this world’s first superbike almost didn’t happen. Phil Vincent and his team were on the receiving end of inquiries from enthusiasts who wanted more performance than the Rapide delivered. Vincent built a test bed bike that was nicknamed “Gunga Din” after the character in Rudyard Kipling’s poem about whom was said “You’re a better man than I am Gunga Din”. Gunga Din was a Vincent Rapide that was made in 1947 and tuned up as a race bike.

It was raced as one of two factory Vincent racing bikes, and it was used as a development bed for a new high performance version of the Rapide. Armed with a viable test prototype in the form of Gunga Din, and with a number of inquiries regarding a higher performance Vincent motorcycle, Phil Vincent went to his finance man, managing director Frank Walker who was the only member of the management team who was not an active motorcycle rider, and proposed the new model.

Walker was not interested and refused to authorize the money for development of the new model. That refusal did not stop Phil Vincent, Phil Irving and the workshop manager George Brown however, who went ahead and built two bikes to the proposed new specification.

The prototype with frame number R2549 fitted with engine number F10AB/1B/558 was completed on February 16th, 1948, and loaned to a motorcycle writer named Charles Markham who was writing for Motor Cycling magazine.

His article appeared in the May 1948 edition and he stated that the bike had managed 122mph (196km/hr) on test. Regardless of whether managing director Frank Walker approved or not the new bike had made a name for itself and made her debut at the London, Earls Court Motorcycle Show that year.

A Black Engine with a Black Gearbox, Black Frame and a Black Fuel Tank: The Vincent Black Shadow (1948-1955)

For their new bike with which to ensure that the Vincent name would become a household word throughout Britain and the United States, Phil Vincent decided that it needed a characteristic paint scheme to go with its awe inspiring speed.

The engine was given a “pyluminising” coat of chromate anti-corrosion primer with Pinchin & Johnson black enamel over the top of it, which was then oven baked for two hours at 200°F/93.3°C: this was going to be a “hot” bike and would be best with a hot baked finish. The engine and Vincent four speed gearbox, which had its final drive changed from the Rapide’s 9:1 up to 7.2:1, were made as a unit so the gearbox casing was given the same treatment while the frame, forks and fuel tank were painted black.

The blackness was relieved by the “Vincent” logo on the fuel tank,valve rocker covers and gearbox, complimented by the copper exhaust flanges, and the chrome of the exhausts, wheels and other feature parts while the handlebars were black enameled Vincent “straights”. The effect was of an understated but striking tastefulness, mixed with a hint of danger.

At the heart of the Black Shadow was a Vincent Rapide engine with some strategic tweaking done to it. While being mostly identical to the Rapide engine the Black Shadow’s power unit had different pistons, which raised the bike’s compression ratio from 6.8:1 to 7.3:1, and early examples featured a third inner valve spring, something that the Rapide did not have, but something that was not continued in later production bikes.

The Black Shadow’s engine also benefited from internal polishing of ports to optimize gas flow and was fitted with different carburetors, the Series B and C being fitted with 1⅛” Amal 289, and “Series D” 1⅛”Amal 389/10. Being a British made motorcycle electrics were by Britain’s “Prince of Darkness”, Lucas.

The frame of the Black Shadow was that of the post-war Series B Rapide which incorporated the engine/transmission unit as a stressed member, thus eliminating the need for down-tubes to wrap around the engine/transmission unit to support them. This of course eliminated the weight of that tubing reducing the weight of the bike to a comparatively light 458lb/207.7kg dry weight (500lb/226.8kg wet). On the early Series B and C bikes the upper frame member was fabricated as a box to do double duty as an oil reservoir while the later “Series D” bikes were equipped with a tubular frame and separate oil reservoir.

Suspension featured Phil Vincent’s pioneering patented cantilever system mounted directly at the rear of the engine/transmission unit, while the first Series B Black Shadows (called Series B because they were based on the Series B Rapide) were fitted with a Brampton girder fork at the front, but fitted with a 180lb spring instead of the 160lb spring used in the Rapide.

The Black Shadow was made not only to go, but to stop efficiently also. It was fitted with four drum brakes just like the Rapide, one on each side of the wheel hubs with a balance bar, but on the Black Shadow those drums were ribbed to enable them to get rid of excess heat just as fast as 1940’s technology could manage.

It was not long into the life of the Black Shadow, in fact it was in 1948, the year the bike made its public debut, that Phil Vincent decided to upgrade the front suspension of the Rapide, and so also the newly minted Black Shadow.

Vincent had understood that the Brampton girder forks were not up to the task on the Vincent Rapide or Black Shadow and that a replacement was necessary. Phil Vincent did not favor the new telescopic forks because both he and Phil Irving believed they lacked the torsional rigidity needed when ridden hard, and especially when ridden hard with a sidecar attached to the bike. Both the Rapide and the Black Shadow were fitted for sidecar use and had attachments for both right and left side fitting.

The Vincent Girdraulic Front Fork System

To answer the problem of the front suspension Vincent designed his own “Girdraulic” front fork system. This was designed to provide even more torsional stability than the old style girder forks but with the supple suspension of the telescopic ones.

The original design of the girder forks used a triangulated parallelogram steel tube structure attached to the front wheel hub with a central spring (or two) in the attachment to the steering head. Vincent wanted to get away from the use of steel, in part for the practical reason of reducing weight while ensuring strength and stiffness, but also in part because steel was heavily rationed and aluminum was not. Having Brampton forks on the front of Vincent motorcycles meant that the steel used in their manufacture was coming out of Brampton’s ration of steel, not Vincent’s.

Vincent’s new “Girdraulic” fork system was simply a development of the girder fork but instead of using steel tubing they used forged RR56 aluminum alloy for the girders and links. To these girder forks were fitted long supple springs from near the axle to to the eccentric on which the lower link had its pivot point.

Damping was provided by a hydraulic shock absorber as opposed to the friction dampers used on more typical girder forks, and providing the inspiration for the name “Girdraulic”. Hydraulic damping provided a far more progressive damping than possible with friction dampers and was a great advantage: self lubricating bronze bushes were used for the top and bottom links to keep maintenance minimal. These forks were made to be easily adjustable to make them better suited to either solo riding or sidecar use.

The Girdraulic fork was designed to progressively increase the effect of the springs’ stiffness under braking to provide an anti-dive mechanism. In recent years Vincent owner’s have discovered that Phil Vincent’s original geometry can be improved on by using a less angled lower fork link, a strategy that eliminates the fork topping that Rapide and Black Shadow riders have experienced on their original vintage bikes.

The Girdraulic forks were found to be extremely tough: a Vincent test rider discovered this the hard way when he hit an Austin A30 sedan side-on with sufficient force to “bend the car in the middle” while on the bike it flattened the wheel rim to the hub, almost pulled the steering column through the head lug, and collapsed the lower link.

The actual Girdraulic blades reportedly survived this rather violent encounter without damage and remained “dead true”, we wonder how the rider fared and we hope he continued to be one of the “Life members of the Black Shadow Society” as Hunter S. Thompson called it.

The Black Shadow Series B, C, and the Unofficial “Series D”

The pre-war Series A Vincent Rapide was the motorcycle that was the father of the Black Shadow and its speed on steroids sibling, the Black Lightning. Vincent did not have an extensive dealer network either in Britain or in overseas markets and Vincent owners were more likely to be interested in “do it yourself” maintenance and repairs.

To this end Vincent kept their model offerings restricted and used as limited a range of parts as possible. Thus the post-war high performance models were simply improved versions of the Series A Vincent Rapide. The Series A was improved on by the move to unitary construction with a Vincent designed and manufactured four speed gearbox. The Series A duo-brakes used front and rear were retained and in these hubs all four drums, the eight brake shoes, the minor parts and the tapered roller bearings were all identical. Not only were these parts standardized but they were made to be easily removed and changed.

The drums themselves could be removed without the need to alter the wheel spokes, and the owner could choose their configuration, whether to have all four drums fitted, or three, or whatever combination was desired. The rear wheel was easily removable and reversible, and fitting a different ratio sprocket was made easy to make the bike adaptable to different situations such as open highway speed or winding mountain roads. (Note: the front to rear brake drum interchangeability was not carried over into the Black Shadow models).

The first of the Series B Black Shadows debuted in 1948 and were fitted with Brampton girder front forks and an adjustable Feridax Dunlopillo Dualseat complete with a tyre pump under it and a tool tray under the front with each tool in a rattle-proof felt compartment.

The change to Vincent Girdraulic front forks marking the changeover to the Series C Rapide and Black Shadow also happening a little later in 1948. The Series C Black Shadow was in production from 1948 until 1954. The final development of the Series C is unofficially referred to as the “Series D” with production of this variant beginning in 1954 and continuing until Vincent ceased manufacturing one week before Christmas in 1955, prior to going into receivership in 1959.

Vincent Black Shadow Specifications

Engine: 998cc/60.9 cu. in. 50° V-twin cylinder OHV, dry-sump, air cooled with bore of 3.3″/84mm, stroke of 3.5″/90mm, and compression ratio of 7.3:1. This engine produced 55hp giving the motorcycle a top speed of approximately 125mph depending on conditions.

Transmission: Vincent four speed gearbox in unit construction with the engine.

Frame: Series B and C; Box-section upper frame member with the engine/transmission unit acting as a stressed member of the frame. Box section upper frame member used as oil tank for the dry sump engine. Late models known unofficially as “Series D” have a tubular steel upper frame member and a separate oil tank reservoir.

Suspension: Front; Series B; Brampton girder forks with 180lb spring and friction damper. Series C; Vincent Girdraulic forks made of RR56 aluminum alloy with coil springs, forks mounted to the upper frame member, telescopic hydraulic damper/shock absorber, the system featuring an anti-dive geometry. Rear, Vincent cantilever suspension with twin telescopic dampers/shock absorbers, lower pivot mounted directly on the engine/transmission unit.

Wheels and Tires: Front; Alloy WM-1 x 20/21 with 3.00 – 20/21. Rear; Alloy WM-2 x 19/20 with 3.5 – 19/20.

Brakes: Four 7″/180mm single leading shoe drum brakes mounted two per wheel. Drums of ribbed cast iron. Front drums fitted with small flanges secured by five bolts, rear drums fitted with larger flanges and secured by ten bolts. Brake linings were Ferodo MR41.

Fuel Capacity: 4.2 US gallons (15.8 liters, 3.5 Imperial gallons).

Weight: 458lb/207.7kg dry weight, 500lb/226.8kg wet weight.

Rollie Free and the Speedo Speed Record

American Roland “Rollie” Free must be credited with being the guy who made the name Vincent a household word overnight. He had spent the pre-war years working his way into motorcycle racing and when the United States entered the Second World War was employed as an aircraft maintenance officer at Hill Field in Utah: and during that time visited the fabled Bonneville Salt Flats where so many speed records had been set.

After the war Rollie left the Air Force and got back into racing, primarily on Indian machines. In this post war period Indian Motocycle and Vincent did some collaborative work to see if they could work together to create motorcycles that would appeal to American riders. One of these was an Indian Chief fitted with a Vincent V-twin engine, and another was a Vincent Rapide made specifically to suit the American market and to be manufactured partly by Vincent and Indian.

Rollie knew California businessman John Edgar who had purchased a Vincent “Black Shadow” built to special custom specifications which had turned it into a limited production motorcycle that would become known as the “Black Lightning”, perhaps because it was painted black, perhaps because it had been subjected to lightening by use of aluminum alloy wherever possible, and perhaps because the little two-wheeled bullet moved with the speed of lightning.

Rollie somehow persuaded John Edgar to loan him the little two wheeled streak of black lightning in 1948 in order for him to have a stab at the American motorcycle speed record out on the Bonneville salt flats, and so the bike and Rollie Free made their way out there to give it their best shot. The Vincent was reportedly 100lb lighter than a standard bike and the engine was producing 25hp more with help from horizontal racing carburetors and the new Mark II racing camshaft.

For his first efforts Rollie wore the custom leathers he’d had made for the speed record attempt and adopted the flat prone position laying across the machine’s fuel tank and rear mudguard with his legs stretched out behind like an Olympic swimmer diving into the water. He reached 147mph doing things the way he’d planned but the leathers tore, and he was 3mph short of 150mph. So he decided to strip off everything that Utah decency laws would allow and try for the speed record wearing only a bathing cap, pair of borrowed jogging shoes, and appropriately named “Speedo” bathers.

I don’t know if you’ve ever thought of what it might feel like if you were riding a motorcycle at 150mph across a salt flat and you fell off? It would be guaranteed to be “rubbing salt into the wound” in the most extreme way, something so nasty that the torturers of the Spanish Inquisition would have loved to have thought of it, except thankfully they didn’t have motorcycles and so didn’t. Rollie Free decided to take the risk as he headed up to 150mph skimming above that potentially painful unforgiving salt.

Rollie Free’s “Speedo” run took place on 13th September 1948 and he got up to 150.313 mph (241.905 km/h) setting a new American speed record and producing what must be the most iconic “need for speed” photograph of the twentieth century. No doubt the publicity was superb and the name Vincent became rather well known in American motorcycle circles.

This was not to be Vincent’s only speed record success however and across the pond in Britain Phil Vincent took four Black Shadows and two Black Lightnings, and got together a group that included Ted Davis (chief tester), John Surtees (at that time an 18 year old apprentice) and Danny Thomas (tester) plus Cyril Julian, Phil Heath, Denis Lashmar, Gustave LeFevre, Bill Petch, Robin Sherry, Johnny Hodgkin and journalist Vic Willoughby of “Motor Cycle” magazine, and took them to L’autodrome de Linas-Montlhéry in May 1952. The team took eight long distance world records and could have done more had some of the bike tires not started de-laminating.

Other Vincent owners put in the effort to set records themselves. Down in Australia on January 19th, 1953 a man named Jack Ehret managed to persuade the police near the town of Gunnedah to close off a suitable section of road so he could give his Vincent Black Shadow the gun and see if he could set an Australian speed record.

He managed a run of 149.6mph but the timing equipment broke and so did his gear shifter. Not to be defeated a makeshift repair was made to the gear shift by hammering a ring spanner onto it and fixing it there with fencing wire: a standard sort of fix in that part of the world.

The makeshift gear shifter was not as good as the original but Jack was able to achieve a two way average of 141.509 mph and with that set a new Australian motorcycle speed record.

Conclusion

The Vincent Black Shadow ended production with all other Vincent motorcycles a week before Christmas Day 1955 and the company finally went into receivership in 1959. There have been some efforts to resurrect the Vincent and the “Black Shadow” name: one was attempted by a gentleman named Bernard Li who intended to build new motorcycles using modern components and powered by the Honda RC51 V-twin engine. Bernard Li was tragically killed in a motorcycle accident before he was able to see his dream fulfilled.

The other effort has emerged in Australia with the creation of the Irving Vincent. This bike has been created by HRD Engineering, which in this new company stands for Horner Race Development. The Irving Vincent is a re-engineered model based on the original Vincent drawings but improved using modern technology and methods.

The Vincent Black Shadow stands with the Brough Superior as the most iconic motorcycles to emerge from Britain. It has a dedicated following, and the surviving Black Shadow’s of the approximately 1,700 that were made sell for quite eye watering sums of money. Tellingly these very costly investment quality motorcycles are usually ridden by their owners because a Vincent Black Shadow is not best appreciated sitting it static in a collection and admiring it as a “work of art”. A Vincent Black Shadow needs to be ridden to be fully appreciated. It is a bike that is best enjoyed both in riding it, and in pulling it apart and doing the maintenance that it requires. It is a hands on classic British motorcycle.

Picture Credits: Vincent HRD, Bonhams, Mecum, Francios Marie Dumas

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